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THE  STRIKE  IN  THE  B-  MILL 


Round-Robin  Series 


The  Strike  in 
the  B 


Mill 


:a  stubfi 


^KY  TUflyy 


BOSTON 

TICKNOR    AND    COMPANY 

1887 


Copyright,  18S7, 
By  Ticknor  and  Company. 


All  Rights  Reserved. 


ELECTROTi'PED   BY 

C.  J.  Peters  &  Son,  Boston. 


PRE  FACE. 


If  what  is  here  written  could,  in  some 
degree,  emphasize,  in  the  minds  of  those 
who  may  take  the  trouble  to  read  it,  the 
evils  and  dangers  attendant  upon  certain 
manifestations  of  the  present  day  in  this 
country,  and  their  causes,  its  purpose  will 
be  well  served. 

The  Author. 


CONTENTS. 


I.    The  Strike ^^ 

II.     Attempts  at  Adjustment 5^ 

III.     Continuance  of  the  Strike      .     .     .     .115 
IV.    Minister    and     Daughter.  —  Coercive 

Measures ^3^ 

V.     A  Director ^^^ 

VI.     Mr.  Hardy  .     .     . ^^5 

VII.     Fate  of  the  Reaction 19^ 

VIII.    Among  THE  People 212 

IX.     "Fiat  Justitia,"  Etc 234 

X.    The  Situation 247 

XI.     Some  Bucolic  Opinions 276 

XII.     Lawlessness 294 

XIII.  After  the  :fiMEUTE 3^^ 

XIV.  Conclusion ^^^ 


THE  STRIKE  IN  THE  B —  MILL. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE   STRIKE. 


(i 


T  T7ELL,   we've    done    it.      Now   let's 
^  ^     see    what    the     Corporation     will 
make  of  it." 

This  was  said  by  a  tall,  handsome  man, 
who,  in  shirt-sleeves  and  with  his  coat 
hanging  on  his  arm,  entered  a  pleasant 
sitting-room  in  one  of  thje  better   class  of 

tenement  houses  in  F . 

His  pretty  wife,  whom  he  addressed,  sat 
by  the  open  window,  sewing,  —  for  it  was 
a  warm  day  in  October,  —  and  two  little 
children  played  together  on  the  carpet  at 
her  feet. 


12         The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

"  So  you've  really  struck,  John  ? "  she 
said,  looking  up  quickly  from  her  work, 
with  an  anxious  expression  clouding  her 
comely  face. 

"  Yes.  The  order  came  just  before  noon, 
and  we  all  marched  out:  All  of  us  'Asso- 
ciates,' that  is.  There  are  two  or  three 
hundred  others,  you  know;  but  they'll  have 
to  stop  work,  I  guess,  as  there'll  be  nothing 
for  them  to  do,  now  we're  gone." 

"  Well,"  returned  his  wife,  "  I  suppose 
some  of  you  had  reason  enough,  if  they 
don't  get  fair  wages." 

"Yes;  they  ought  to  give  what  we  ask, 
that's  a  fact.  It  isn't  much  of  an  advance, 
and  that  only  in  some  departments." 

Vance,  for  that  was  the  man's  name  — 
John  Vance  —  went  into  a  back  room  and 
washed  his  hands,  and  came  back  putting 
on  his  coat.  He  seated  himself  in  a  chair, 
and,  reaching  down,  lifted  the  youngest  of 


The  Strike.  13 


the  two  children,  —  a  beautiful  little  boy  of 
two  years,  with  dark  hair  and  eyes,  —  to  his 
knee.  The  other  boy,  somewhat  older,  ran 
across  the  room,  and,  sure  of  his  welcome, 
climbed  upon  the  other  knee.  Their  father, 
who  was  evidently  very  fond  of  them, 
played  with  them  a  moment  or  two,  but 
with  rather  a  preoccupied  air;  then,  again 
addressing  his  wife,  he  said:  — 

"Bradford  and  the  others  say  that  we 
shall  get  the  advance  we  ask  for." 

"  Who  is  Bradford  —  and  the  others,  who 
are  they,  John  ?  " 

"Why,  he  and  Murphy  are  our  Execu- 
tive Committee;  and  you've  heard  me 
speak  often  enough  of  Darragh,  the  last 
few  days." 

"  Oh,  yes.     You  say  he's  a  fine  man." 

"  He  is  that,"  said  Vance.  "  As  nice  a 
man  as  I  ever  saw.     Careful  and  safe." 

"  And  how  are  we  to  live,  John,  until  the 


14        The  Strike  i?i  the  B Mill, 

Company  makes  up  its  mind?  I  don't  want 
to  draw  our  little  money  from  the  bank, 
you  know.  And  there  is'nt  but  a  little  of 
it,  any  way." 

"  Oh,  there  will  be  contributions  from  all 
around.  They  say  there's  plenty  that'll 
come  in  if  we  need  it.  But  the  mill  isn't 
going  to  stand  out  long,"  he  added,  confi- 
dently. 

The  woman  bit  off  the  end  of  a  thread 
thoughtfully. 

"  I  am  not  quite  so  sure  about  that,"  she 
said,  slowly.  "  They  may  think  you  won't 
be  able  to  stand  out  long  yourselves,  and 
may  wait  awhile  to  see."  She  thought  a 
moment.  "I  don't  like  the  looks  of  things," 
she  went  on.  "  There  are  too  many  strikes. 
Here  you,  who  are  getting  wages  that  sat- 
isfy you,  obliged  to  stop  because  somebody 
else  in  the  mill  is  not  getting  enough.  That 
don't  seem  right  to  me,  exactly.     But  per- 


The  Strike.  IS 

haps  you  know  best,"  she  added.  Then 
looking  at  her  husband  and  seeming  to 
recall  something,  she  said,  suddenly.  "  But 
why  weren't  you  home  to  dinner,  John?" 
She  arose  as  she  spoke  and  went  to  the 
stove.  "  I've  kept  something  for  you  in  the 
oven,  but  it's  three  o'clock  most,  and  I'm 
afraid  it  can't  be  good  for  much  now." 

"  Oh,"  rejoined  her  husband,  "  never 
mind  that.  I  got  something  to  eat  at 
O'Flaherty's  with  the  rest  of  the  men. 
We  wanted  to  talk  things  over." 

His  wife  looked  at  him  more  closely, 
though  rather  furtively,  and,  observing  his 
flushed  face,  she  averted  her  eyes  instantly, 
and,  again  -sitting  down,  bent  over  her 
work.  Presently  she  said,  with  a  little  hes- 
itation, "  There's  more  to  drink  than  to  eat 
sold  at  O'Flaherty's.  I  wish  you  wouldn't 
go  there,  dear.  Now  you're  without  work, 
don't  get  into  bad  ways,  John." 


i6        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 


"Well,  I  don't  mean  to,  Mary,"  said  he, 
good-humoredly. 

His  wife  smiled,  then  sighed  a  little. 
Vance  chatted  and  played  awhile  with 
the  children;  then,  setting  them  down,  he 
stretched  himself,  and  looked  out  of  the 
w^indow.  The  unusual  idleness  in  the 
middle  of  the  day  was  irksome  to  him. 
After  standing  about  for  a  little  time  he 
thoughtfully  filled  his  pipe,  lighted  it,  and 
slowly  sauntered  out.  Mary  Vance  sewed 
on  awhile  after  he  had  gone,  then  dropped 
her  work  on  her  lap  and  sat  with  still  fin- 
gers and  bent  brow,  lost  in  thought.  She 
was  aroused  in  a  few  moments  by  the  salu- 
tation of  a  young  woman  in  the  loose  drag- 
gled gown  and  faded  shawl  so  commonly 
seen  in  factory  towns,  who  stopped  in  the 
hall  and  looked  in  at  the  open  door.  As 
she  leaned  against  the  door-frame  in  a 
weary  attitude,  she  looked  enviously  over 
the  pleasant  room. 


The  Strike.  17 


"  Good-afternoon,  Fanny,"  said  Mrs. 
Vance,  glancing  up  at  her  pleasantly. 

"Good-afternoon,"  she  replied,  in  a  rather 
discontented  tone.  "  We're  through  at  the 
B ,  I  suppose  you  know." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Vance.  "  My  husband 
has  been  telling  me  about  it.  It's  been 
talked  of  for  some  time." 

"  It'll  be  a  good  while  before  we  go  in 
that  mill  again,  I'm  thinking,"  said  the 
other,  despondently. 

"  Didn't  you  want  to  strike?"  asked  Mrs. 
Vance. 

"  Ah,  no,"  answered  the  girl,  for  she  was 
but  a  girl  in  years.  "  Perhaps  I'd  not 
enough  of  wages;  they  said  I  was  of  those 
underpaid.  But  I  could  get  along,  me  and 
the  baby.  And  now,  God  knows  what 
we'll  do  if  the  strike  lasts.  The  money 
I've  earned  this  two  weeks  is  all  I've  got 
in  the  world,  and  where'll  I  get  any  more.^ 


1 8        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

I  can't  go  away  because  of  the  baby;  and  I 
couldn't,  maybe,  find  work.  They  say 
we're  to  have  money  from  the  order,  but 
where  it's  coming  from,  with  strikes  all 
about,  I  don't  see."  Her  face  flushed,  as  she 
grew  excited  by  her  foreboding  thoughts, 
and,  when  she  concluded,  the  tears  stood  in 
her  eyes. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Vance,  "John's  been 
contributing  every  week  or  fortnight  for 
some  time  back,  to  help  somebody  else  in 
other  places,  and  it  will  be  rather  hard  if 
the  B folks  can't  get  help  now  them- 
selves." 

"  I  don't  care,"  burst  out  the  young  girl, 
passionately;  "I  wish  the  ^Associates  of 
Toil '  would  let  me  alone!  First,  they  make 
me  join  them,  and  then  they  throw  me  out 
of  my  work  when  I  want  to  keep  on.  The 
bosses  is  mean  enough,  perhaps,  but,  if  I 
was  satisfied  to  work,  it's  my  business.     If 


The  Strike.  19 


me  and  the  baby  goes  hungry,  who's  to 
blame?"  She  wiped  her  eyes  with  the 
corner  of  her  shawl.  "  Well,"  she  added, 
resignedly,  "  I  must  go  along.  I'm  hoping 
they'll  patch  up  and  let  us  back  to  work 
soon.  Good-bye,"  and  she  slowly  ascended 
the  stairs. 

A    quarter   of  a    mile   down    the   village 

street,  in  the  office  of  the  B Mill,  that 

afternoon,  the  paymaster  and  his  clerks 
were  hard  at  work  upon  the  pay-rolls; 
while  in  an  interior  room  the  superinten- 
dent of  the  factory  was  closeted  with  the 
president  and  treasurer  of  the  corporation. 
The  latter  gentlemen  had  been  informed  by 
telegraph  of  the  strike,  and  had  come  down 
from  the  neighboring  city  by  rail. 

They  seemed  considerably  harassed,  but 
the  superintendent  had  the  air  of  a  man 
who,    in    the    presence  of  a    disaster,  finds 


20         The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

in  it  only  the  realization  of  his  expecta- 
tions. 

The  situation  of  affairs  was  naturally  the 
topic  of  their  conversation.  "  This  matter 
of  wages,"  said  the  superintendent,  "  I  have, 
as  you  are  aware,  considered  for  some  time, 
and  my  opinion  regarding  them  remains 
unchanged.  I  feel  that,  though  times  are 
hard,  some,  if  not  all,  these  demands  should 
be  granted."  He  pointed  as  he  spoke  to  a 
paper  lying  upon  the  table,  that  contained 
the  demands  of  the  strikers,  with  the  wages 
as  requested,  arranged  in  tabulated  form. 

''  I  do  not  altogether  disagree  with  you," 
said  the  president,  "  were  it  certain  that 
concessions  would  not  be  followed  by  other 
and  more  unreasonable  demands.  As  I  am 
not  too  familiar  with  these  matters,  pray 
regard  this  as  a  mere  suggestion,  you 
know." 

^'  In  my  judgment,"  replied  the  superin- 


The  Strike,  21 


tendent,   "that    does    not    at    all    affect   the 
matter  we  have  to  consider." 

The  superintendent  was  a  quiet,  deter- 
mined-looking man,  though  with  a  habitu- 
ally kind  expression  of  face.  His  speech 
was  slow  and  measured. 

"I,  as  you  know,  gentlemen,"  he  went 
on,  "  came  up  from  the  ranks  —  have  been 
a  factory  hand  myself,  and  in  my  present 
position  am  brought  much  nearer  to  the 
operatives  than  you.  I  know  their  needs, 
and  the  amount  and  value  of  their  work, 
better  than  you  possibly  can.  If  they  are 
earning  more  than  they  are  receiving,  as 
this  sort  of  work  is  being  paid  for  to-day,  it 
should  be  an  abstract  question  of  justice 
with  us  to  right  this  —  " 

"Very  much  so  —  certainly,"  said  the 
president,  w^ho  had  listened  attentively.  "  I 
should  say  that  would  be  right — very." 

"  Yes  —  and  when,"  continued  the  super- 


2  2         The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

intendent;  "we  have  made  such  conces- 
sions as  we  believe  to  be  right,  and  the 
hands  are  still  unsatisfied,  we  can  take  our 
stand  with  clear  consciences,  and  the  blame 
of  the  strike  will  lie  with  them,  not  us." 

The  president  made  no  further  reply,  but 
arose  from  his  chair  and  walked  thought- 
fully up  and  down  the  room  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets.  Notwithstanding  his  inter- 
est in  the  superintendent's  views,  he  seemed 
tired  and  somewhat  disgusted  with  the 
whole  business. 

The  treasurer,  who  was  evidently  the 
most  important  person  present,  and  occu- 
pied the  largest  arm-chair,  had  been  hith- 
erto leaning  back  in  that  comfortable  article 
of  furniture,  placidly  smoking  as  he  listened 
to  the  superintendent.  He  now  took  his 
cigar  from  his  lips  and  said  to  him,  "You 
regard  this  strike,  then,  as  justifiable,  Mr. 
Malcolm?" 


The  Strike,  23 


The  superintendent  turned  his  head  and 
looked  at  the  other  in  silence  for  a  moment. 
Then,  with  his  slowness  of  speech  intensi- 
fied, he  said,  firmly,  "  Mr.  Hartwell,  during 
the  past  three  months,  I  have  constantly 
spoken  to  you  of  the  discontent  existing  in 
the  mill,  and  have  formally  reported  it  to 
the  directors;  and  equally,  I  have  urged 
some  increase  of  wages  in  certain  depart- 
ments, where  our  hands  are  paid  less  than 
in  other  corporations  for  similar  work.  I 
will  not  go  into  particulars,  but  you  know 
exactly  the  men  who  are  so  underpaid.  The 
difference  is  not  great,  but  it  is  there,  and 
these  are  not  times  when  it  is  possible  to 
maintain  such  differences,  apart  from  the 
question  of  right.  My  view^s  on  this  subject 
have  been  familiar  to  you,  and  I  do  not  like 
your  assuming  that  I  look  on  the  strike  with 
favor  because  of  them."  The  superinten- 
dent stopped  a  moment,   then   added:    "I 


24        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

detest  strikes,  and  consider  the  '  Associates 
of  Toil '  as  a  most  mischievous  organization 
in  the  main;  more  hurtful  to  the  laborer, 
indeed,  than  to  us.  But  if  I  do  not  like  the 
methods  employed  to  obtain  what  they 
want,  that  does  not  alter  my  opinion  of  the 
justice  of  some  of  the  demands  our  opera- 
tives are  now  making." 

He  stopped,  opened  his  lips  as  if  to  speak 
farther,  then  appeared  to  think  he  had  said 
enough;  giving  a  twist  to  his  revolving- 
office  chair,  he  reached  a  paper  knife  from 
the  table  and,  slowly  turning  it  in  his 
fingers,  remained  silent. 

The  treasurer  was  a  dignified  gentleman, 
of  courteous  demeanor,  but  his  eye  sparkled 
and  the  puffs  of  smoke  from  his  cigar  were 
rather  more  rapid  than  usual  as  he  listened 
to  his  subordinate. 

Controlling  such  annoyance  as  he  may 
have  felt,  however,  he  replied  in  his  ordi- 


Tlie  Strike,  25 


nary  bland  tone,  "  You  must  not  forget,  my 
dear  sir,  that  we  are  servants  of  the  Cor- 
poration, and  cannot  treat  these  matters  as 
personal  to  ourselves,"  — 

"You  are  a  rather  heavy  stockholder," 
interrupted  the  superintendent,  "  and  I  own 
considerable  myself." 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  said  the  treasurer, 
"  but  our  position  is  one  of  trust  for  others 
as  well  as  ourselves.  Personally,"  he  con- 
tinued, with  his  mildest  manner,  "person- 
ally, nothing  would  afford  me  greater  pleas- 
ure than  to  pay  generous  wages,  but  duty 
prevents  the  gratification  of  such  a  feeling. 
Philanthropy  is  not  business,  Mr.  Malcolm. 
We  must  buy  our  labor  upon  substantially 
the  same  basis  that  we  do  our  cotton.  But 
apart  from  this,  I  feel  very  strongly  that  we 
should  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
this  organization  who  have  sent  in  this  im- 
pudent demand.     The   directors  will    meet 


26        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

to-morrow  here.     I  shall   agree  to  no  con- 
cession —  at  least  until  the  men  are  willinor 

o 

to  deal  with  you  individually." 

"  I  doubt  very  much,"  said  the  superin- 
tendent, "  whether  they  will  do  that  at 
present." 

"They  must!"  said  the  treasurer,  rather 
angrily.  "And  when  they  do  it  will  be 
time  enough  to  consider  any  possible 
change  of  wages,  which  matter,  it  seems 
to  me,  we  are  prematurely  discussing." 

"  I  cannot  see,"  retorted  the  superinten- 
dent, "  how  the  vital  trouble  here  can  be 
considered  too  early  or  often  between  us. 
It  has  to  be  faced,  and  the  sooner,  the 
better." 

"  Well,  well,  perhaps  so,"  impatiently 
responded  the  other,  "  and  very  likely  it 
may  not  be  settled  quite  as  you  anticipate. 
I,  at  least,  have  never  agreed  with  you 
there."     Then  turning  and  touching  a  bell 


The  Strike,  27 


upon  the  table,  he  spoke  to  the  paymaster, 
who  looked  in. 

"  I  will  have  the  funds  down  to-morrow, 
Beach,"  he  said,  "  and  you  can  pay  off  then, 
if  your  rolls  are  ready." 

"  That  will  be  impossible,  Mr.  Hartwell," 
answered  the  paymaster.  "  Being  wholly 
unprepared,  we  cannot  have  them  done 
until  Friday  morning,  working  almost  night 
and  day." 

"  Then  give  notice  for  Friday,  and  let  us 
have  that  matter  out  of  the  way  as  soon  as 
possible." 

"Any  hard  words  or  demonstrations 
among  the  men,  Mr.  Malcolm?"  he  asked, 
again  addressing  the  superintendent. 

"None  at  all,  sir.  Many  appeared  very 
unwilling  to  quit  work,  and  in  the  dye-rooms 
and  machine-shop  the  men  would  not  have 
stirred,  I  believe,  were  it  not  for  the  disci- 
pline of  the  organization.  They  and  many 
others  are  content  with  their  wages." 


28         The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

"  They  all  ought  to  be,"  said  the  treasurer, 
as  he  lighted  a  fresh  cigar. 

"  Some  of  those,"  continued  the  superin- 
tendent, with  a  little  extra  emphasis,  "  whom 
I  regard  as  underpaid,  have  been  so  long 
discontented  that  I  expected  some  loud 
talk.  But  they  treated  us  to  none  what- 
ever." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  treasurer;  "but 
neglect  no  proper  police  precautions.  You 
cannot  tell,"  he  added,  with  a  little  smile, 
"  exactly  where  a  striker  may  strike." 

"  All  that  will  be  attended  to,"  answered 
the  superintendent.  "  Some  of  the  police 
will,  I've  no  doubt,  be  detailed  for  duty  here 
if  required.  And  I  shall  have  a  number  of 
special  constables  sworn  in  for  steady  ser- 
vice as  watchmen.  There  are  a  large  num- 
ber of  our  men  not  ^Associates  of  Toil,'  who 
will  be  employed  for  some  time  here  clear- 
ing up,  if  this  thing  lasts,  and  we  have  a 


The  Strike*  29 


large  line  of  those  prints  to  ship  to  New 
York  as  you  ordered.  There  is  a  good  deal 
of  work  to  be  done." 

Mr.  Phillips,  the  president,  though  listen- 
ing attentively  to  the  conversation,  had 
shown  no  disposition  to  take  part  in  it  be- 
yond his  first  brief  suggestion,  and  had  con- 
tinued pacing  the  room,  or  had  sat  with  one 
leg  on  the  table  as  the  discussion  went  for- 
ward. 

"  If  you  are  ready,  Hartwell,"  he  now  re- 
marked, picking  up  his  hat,  "perhaps  we 
had   better   start  for  our    train.     It  goes  at 

4:30." 

"So  it  does;  well,  good-aflernoon,  Mr. 
Malcolm  ;  we  shall  see  you  to-morrow." 

"  Our  friend  seems  rather  to  side  with  the 
strikers,"  said  the  president,  as  they  walked 
down  the  street.' 

"Not  quite  that,"  said  Mr.  Hartwell; 
"but  he  is  always  soft-hearted  toward  the 


30        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 


laboring  man,  and  gives  me  considerable 
trouble  with  his  fads  and  notions  of  what 
they  ought  to  have  done  for  them  in  the 
mill.  He  doesn't  get  very  far  with  me 
there.  However,  he  is  an  exceedingly  val- 
uable man,  and  we  could  not  get  on  without 
him.'' 

They  talked  of  other  things  until,  as  they 
were  parting  on  the  platform  of  their  home 
station,  the  president  said,  suddenly:  — 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  old  Malcolm  isn't  half 
right  about  the  laboring  men,  after  all.  Per- 
haps we  don't  give  them  quite  as  fair  a 
chance  as  they  deserve." 

The  treasurer  looked  a  little  annoyed,  but 
forced  a  laugh,  and  they  parted. 

The  superintendent,  upon  their  departure, 
put  on  his  hat  and  went  into  the  factory,  and 
was  in  consultation  with  one  of  his  non-union 
foremen  on  the  second  floor,  when  the  door 


The  Strike,  31 


opening  from  the  stair  landing  slammed,  and 
a  man  entered  and  walked  toward  them 
down  one  of  the  long  aisles  between  the 
looms. 

He  was  good-looking  and  sunburned, 
dressed  in  a  gray  suit  and  slouch  hat;  and 
he  carried  a  buggy  whip  in  his  hand. 

He  greeted  Mr.  Malcolm  with  a  heart}^ 
voice,  and  nodded  pleasantly  to  the  fore- 
man. 

"  They  seem  to  have  done  it  at  last,  Mr. 
Malcolm,"  he  said. 

"Yes," replied  Malcolm,  "they've  gone  out, 
I'm  sorry  to  say.  My  regret  lies  in  the  fact 
that  the  thing  might  and  ought  to  have  been 
averted.  I  told  you  the  other  day,  down  at 
the  farm,  that  I  feared  that  it  was  inevitable." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  "  and  I  agreed  with 
you.  I  have  driven  over,"  he  continued, 
"to  ask  if  things  are  likely  to  be  quiet  and 
orderly   for  the  present,  and  whether  your 


32         The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

knowledge  of  the  temper  of  the  men  would 
lead  you  to  suggest  any  immediate  police 
precautions." 

"I  do  not  think,  Mr.  Brayton,"  said  the 
superintendent,  "  that  the  strike  will  be  of 
long  duration;  for,  as  I  look  at  it,  we  are 
bound  to  make  some  concessions,  and  if 
they  are  met  in  the  right  spirit,  and  no  out- 
side complications  are  introduced,  it  ought 
to  be  settled  in  a  day  or  two." 

"  I  w^as  just  told  of  a  man,"  said  Brayton, 
"  whom  they  called  Darragh,  a  member 
of  the  General  Executive  Board  of  the  ^  As- 
sociates of  Toil,'  who  appears  to  have  hap- 
pened around  here  about  this  time  on  some 
matter,  and  rather  instigated  this  movement. 
But  they  say  he  is  a  very  good  fellow,  not- 
withstanding, and  likely  to  counsel  modera- 
tion.    Do  you  know  him?  " 

"  Yes,  by  reputation,  which  agrees  with 
what  you   have    been   told.     He,   I   under- 


The  Strike.  -^t^ 


stand,  drew  up  the  schedule  of  wages  that 
they  demand,  and  I  am  bound  to  sa}^  that  it 
is  very  reasonable." 

"What  police  force  have  you  in  the  town, 
by  the  way?  "  he  added. 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  say,"  replied  Bray- 
ton,  "  that  I  do  not  exactly  know.  But 
there  cannot  be  over  five  or  six  regular 
ofl^cers." 

"  That  is  not  much  of  a  force,"  said  Mal- 
colm. 

"  No,"  said  Brayton;  "  but,  notwithstand- 
ing your  people,  we  have  always  had  a  quiet 
community." 

The  superintendent  was  stooping  to  pick 
out  some  shreds  from  a  loom. 

"That  is  too  few,  I  should  sa}^,  at  any 
time,  however,"  he  said,  rising. 

"Well,"  answered  Brayton,  smiling,  "you 
know  our  New  England  idea  has  always 
been  to  obey  the  laws  and  keep  the  peace 


34        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

ourselves,  without  the  intervention  of  many 
policemen." 

"Yes,"  said  Malcolm;  "but  these  people 
w^ho  have  been  coming  into  the  country  by 
the  million  are  many  of  them  new  to  the 
American  ideas,  and  some  of  them  are  very 
slow  to  learn  them.  You  have  to  think  of 
that." 

"  Well,"  said  Brayton,  "  in  a  case  like  the 
present,  we  certainly  ought  to  bear  it  in 
mind.  Our  board  meets  to-night,  and  we 
shall  qualify  a  number  of  specials.  Give 
me  the  benefit  of  your  advice  as  to  how 
many  ought  to  be  needed." 

"  Better  have  enough,"  said  Malcolm. 
"  My  judgment  would  be  that  while  few 
may  be  required  if  things  go  as  I  hope,  still 
they  make  take  another  turn,  and  you  may 
need  a  good  many.  It  is  better  to  have 
them  quietly  sworn  in  now  and  available 
when   needed,  than   to  take  such  measures 


The  Strike,  35 


later,  when  it  would  attract  more  attention, 
and  perhaps  intensify  existing  bad  feeling." 

"  Yes,"  said  Brayton,  thoughtfully,  "  that 
is  certainly  the  wiser  plan." 

"  All  our  night  watchmen,"  Mr.  Malcolm 
went  on,  "  are  now  constables;  but,  if  you 
have  no  objection,  I  should  like  to  send  in 
a  few  others  to-night  to  be  qualified  as  such, 
as  we  must  now  have  watchmen  day  as  well 
as  night." 

"All  right;  send  them  along,"  said  Bray- 
ton. 

They  walked  together  down  the  long 
room  between  the  hundreds  of  idle  looms, 
across  which  the  level  rays  of  the  afternoon 
sun  were  shining,  unburdened  by  the  parti- 
cles of  dust  that  filled  the  air  when  they 
were  in  active  operation. 

The  superintendent  stopped,  laying  his 
hand  on  one  of  the  looms. 

"Man  and  boy,  Mr.  Brayton,  I  have  got 


^6         The  Strike  in  tlie  B Mill. 

my  living  out  of  these  things,  both  in  Eng- 
land and  here." 

"  They've  been  much  improved,"  said 
Brayton,  "  since  you  began,  I  take  it." 

"  Yes  —  they,  and  the  application  of  the 
power  that  drives  them,  have  been  altered 
from  time  to  time;  but  the  principle  remains 
the  same.  You  will  hardly  believe  it,  per- 
haps, but  the  old  hand-loom  can  still  make 
the  best  cloth.  That  is  what  I  was  taught 
to  work  on  as  a  boy.  I  left  there  when  very 
young,"  continued  Mr.  Malcolm,  "  but  I  am 
told  that  they  are  still  much  in  use  in  my 
old  district  and  in  other  parts  of  England 
and  Scotland." 

"Indeed!"  said  Brayton;  "I  was  not 
aware  of  that." 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "and  for  fine 
woollen  cloths  they  are  still  the  best.  But 
it's  a  slow  process  compared  to  that  where 
other  power  is  used,  of  course  ;  and  where. 


The  Strike, 


37 


as  in  this  mill,  we  manufacture  cotton,  wool- 
len, and  mixed  cloths,  all  under  the  same 
roof,  by  the  thousands  of  yards,  the  old 
hand-loom  seems  a  small  affair,  in  spite  of 
its  excellent  work.  You  see,  Mr.  Brayton," 
he  continued,  after  a  pause,  "  I  began  at  the 
bottom,  and  I  have  lots  of  sympathy  with 
those  who  are  there  yet.  Some  of  the  men 
think  I'm  rather  hard  because  I  try  to  do  my 
duty  and  expect  them  to  do  theirs.  But 
they  haven't  a  better  friend  than  I,  and  many 
of  them,  I  think,  know  it." 

"  It  is  a  great  pity,"  said  Brayton,  "  that 
these  people  have  left  their  work.  They 
can't  afford  to  do  it,  most  of  them,  for  a  day. 
I  hope  you  can  give  them  what  they  want, 
and  have  them  soon  back." 

"  I  hope  so,  most  sincerely,"  said  the 
superintendent,  earnestly,  "  for  their  own 
sakes  far  more  than  ours;  though,  of  course, 
it's   a   loss    all   around,   I'll    admit.     A   rest 


38        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

from  production  last  year  might  not  have 
hurt  us.  But  we  are  just  now  in  such  a  po- 
sition with  regard  to  certain  lines  of  goods 
that  a  long  delay  will  certainly  injure  us." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Brayton;  "but  I  couldn't 
probably  understand  it  very  well  if  explained. 
I  am  only  a  farmer,  now,  you  know. 
Possibly  I  might  be  more  intelligent  if  we 
were  speaking  of  the  operation  of  a  smelt- 
ing furnace,  or  the  simple  conditions  gov- 
erning the  production  of  gold  and  silver. 
Well,  I  must  get  home,"  he  added,  "  as  I 
have  to  drive  in  again  this  evening." 

They  had  been  moving  down  the  stairs, 
and  Brayton  stepped  from  the  door  and,  un- 
hitching his  horse,  got  into  his  light  trotting 
wagon  and  drove  out  of  the  court-yard. 

The  mare  he  drove  would  have  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  more  critical  ej^es 
than  those  that  admiringly  followed  her  in 
the  streets  of  F ,  by  her  extreme  beauty; 


The  Strike,  39 


and  the  swift,  stealing  gait  with  which  she 
whirled  her  master's  vehicle  toward  home 
was  rhythmical  in  its  smoothness  and  ca- 
dence. 

As  Brayton  drove  the  handsome  creature 
with  a  light  hand  down  the  long  village 
street,  he  looked  cm^iously  at  the  groups  of 
idle  men  hanging  about  the  corners  or 
slowly  sauntering  along  the  sidewalks.  In 
a  large  city  there  is  so  constant  a  flow  of 
humanity  through  the  streets  at  all  times 
that  any  change  in  the  conditions  of  a 
large  number  of  people  creates  hardly  any 

change.     But  in  a  small  village  like  F , 

the  suddenly  acquired  leisure  of  over  two 
thousand  men  and  women  altered  the  whole 
appearance  of  the  place.  They  seemed  to 
overflow  everywhere. 

Brayton  noticed  that  the  men,  for  the 
most  part,  seemed  in  high  good-humor,  and 
to    be    having   rather    a   good   time    of    it. 


40         The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

Their  faces  wore  a  look  of  triumph  born  of 
their  recent  act  of  self-assertion,  as  they 
regarded  it;  and  it  seemed  to  him  as 
though  it  were  idle  to  fear  any  evil  from 
these  good-natured  men,  who  appeared  at 
peace  with  themselves  and  the  world. 

But  he  presently  drove  by  the  door  of  a 
drinking  saloon,  and  saw  it  vomit  forth  a 
crowd  of  men  with  flushed  faces  and  thick 
loud  speech.  Then  he  saw  the  shadow  of 
future  trouble,  and  the  possible  necessity  for 
the  precautions  he  had  contemplated. 

The  son  of  a  small  storekeeper  in  F , 

George  Brayton  had  early  in  life  gone  to 
California,  where,  as  fortunate  and  more 
prudent,  perhaps,  than  many  others,  he  had 
by  hard  work  quickly  acquired  a  small 
competency,  with  which  he  returned  to 
settle  near  his  old  home. 

He  purchased  a  large  farm  a  couple  of 
miles  out  of  the  village,  and  had  expended 


The  Strike. 


41 


much  money  in  the  raising  of  very  particu- 
hir  stock,  and  in  other  costly  agricultural 
experiments  of  various  kinds. 

As  an  old  townsboy  and  a  very  good 
fellow  to  boot,  he  was  w^ell  received,  and 
rather  popular;  and,  much  against  his  incli- 
nation, had  been  chosen  this  year  a  member 
of  the  board  of  selectmen,  and  was  now 
its  chairman.  He  had  said,  when  objecting 
to  this  troublesome  honor,  that  if  the  village 
were  as  he  left  it,  a  little  Yankee  farming 
community,  he  should  not  have  minded 
serving  them,  but,  with  this  great  mill  that 
he  had  found  on  his  return  from  the  West, 
and  between  two  and  three  thousand  addi- 
tional, partly  floating,  and  largely  foreign, 
population,  it  was  not  so  pleasant  a  town  to 
govern. 

He^  reached  home  in  a  sharp  drive  of  a 
few  minutes,  and,  leaving  the  team  in  the 
stable-yard,  went  into  the  house. 


42         The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

"  Well,  mother,"  he  said  to  the  pleasant- 
looking  old  lady  whom  he  found  seated  at 
the  tea-table,  "  I  see  Pm  a  little  late,  and,  if 
you  please,  Fll  sit  right  down,  as  I  must  go 
back  to  town  this  evening." 

"What  takes  you  there  so  soon  again, 
George?"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him 
through  her  glasses.  "  Is  it  to  see 
Ellen?" 

"  No,  though  I  shall  try  to  get  into  Mr. 
Hardy's  if  I  have  time.  There  is  a  special 
meeting  of  the  selectmen  to-night,  and  I 
must  be  there.  This  strike  makes  it  neces- 
sary to  take  some  unusual  measures." 

"  You  don't  fear  any  trouble,  do  you, 
George  ?  " 

"Oh,  no  —  I  think  not.  But  an  ounce 
of  prevention,  you  know,  mother,  is  often 
advisable." 

They  talked  of  different  matters,  and 
presently  the   old   lady  remarked  that   she 


The  Strike,  43 


supposed  George  knew  how  sick  the   me- 
rino buck  was. 

"Sick?  No,  I  didn't,"  he  answered, 
quickly,  looking  up  from  his  plate.  "I 
should  think,"  he  went  on,  "Johnson  had 
better  speak  to  me  about  a  thing  like  that." 

"Hannah  told  me,"  said  Mrs.  Brayton, 
"that  he  was  taken  this  afternoon.  Johnson, 
no  doubt,  meant  to  tell  you  this  evening." 

"  I  declare,"  exclaimed  Brayton,  pushing 
away  his  cup,  and  looking  moodily  before 
him,  "  Isn't  it  too  bad?  I've  lost  one  already. 
Why  couldn't  this  fellow  die  before  I  paid 
a  hundred  dollars  for  him?  Well,"  he  con- 
tinued, "I  can't  help  it.  Johnson  knows 
how  to  doctor  him." 

"  On  the  whole,"  he  said,  after  thinking  a 
minute  or  two,  "  I  believe  I'll  sell  my  sheep 
and  get  rid  of  Johnson." 

"What!  your  beautiful  merinos,  that  you 
are  so  fond  of  ?  " 


44         The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

"Yes,  why  not?  they  have  been  a  con- 
stant outgo;  and  I've  been  thinking  it  time 
to  pull  myself  together  a  little.  This  labor 
movement  seems  to  be  spreading  in  every 
direction,  and,  though  it  don't  touch  me 
yet,  things  may  get  into  such  a  condition, 
throughout  the  country,  as  shall  impoverish 
us  all  before  w^e  are  through  with  it.  I'll 
sell  the  sheep,"  he  went  on,  "and  clear  out 
a  lot  of  my  high-priced  colts  and  heifers, 
and  get  down  to  more  legitimate  farming. 
Don't  be  troubled,  mother,"  he  continued, 
laughing,  as  that  lady  looked  a  little  anx- 
ious. He  turned  his  chair  so  that  he  could 
look  out  of  the  window  and  under  the  trees 
across  his  broad  fields,  stretching  toward 
the  sunset  sky. 

"  There  is  no  need  of  worrying,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  for  I  have  a  farm  here  that  will 
take  care  of  us,  and  some  others  besides,  I 
hope,  whatever  comes.     Ah,  there  is  some 


The  Strike,  45 


one,"  he  added,  as  a  large  shadow  fell 
across  the  hall,  and  a  knock  sounded  on 
the  lintel  of  the  open  outside  door;  for  the 
evening  was  as  warm  as  the  day  had  been. 

He  stepped  into  the  hall,  and  Mrs.  Bray- 
ton  heard  a  loud  voice  say:  "  Haow  air  ye, 
George?  I  wuz  up  this  way,  and  wanted 
ter  look  at  one  uv  them  grade  Durhams  uv 
yourn.  Though  it's  kinder  late,  tew  be 
sure.     No,  I  wun't  come  in,  thank  ye." 

Brayton  lighted  a  cigar,  and  went  with 
his  visitor  across  the  well  kept  lawn  and  up 
the  driveway  to  the  barn,  where  that  expe- 
rienced person  proceeded  to  examine  some 
pretty  cattle  that  stood  in  the  yard,  as  well 
as  the  fast-falling  dusk  would  permit. 

^^Nice-lookin'  critters,"  he  observed,  tak- 
ino-  a  chew  of  tobacco.  "But,"  he  added, 
tentatively,  as  he  rolled  the  tobacco  com- 
fortably into  his  cheek,  "ye  can't  see 'em 
jest  so  well  in  this  light." 


46        The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

"You  know  what  they  are,  INIr.  Brad- 
shaw,"  said  Brayton,  "  and  hardly  need  to 
look  at  them.  I  am  willing  to  sell,  for  I 
mean  to  reduce  my  herd  more  than  usual 
this  flill." 

"Yaas?"  said  Mr.  Bradshaw,  regarding 
Brayton  with  a  ludicrously  earnest  gaze. 
"  But  they  dew  say  ye  hold  'em  pritty  mid- 
dlin'  high,  naow,  George." 

Mr.  Bradshaw  was  rather  tbnd  of  Bray- 
ton, and  treated  him  with  a  paternal  famil- 
iarity, to  which  he  had  not  the  least  objec- 
tion. 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Brayton,  with  a  laugh, 
"  I  have  such  a  high  regard  for  you  that  Til 
try  and  not  overreach  you.  Come,  make 
me  an  offer  for  a  pair  of  them  ;  and  take 
your  pick.  They  are  all  so  good  that  Fm 
quite  indifferent  as  to  which  you  select." 

Mr.  Bradshaw  was  a  tall,  raw-boned 
flu'mer,  with  a  good-natured  twinkle  in  his 


The  Strike,  47 


e3'e,  that  revealed  the  dry  humor  that  was 
one  of  his  prevailing  characteristics.  But 
a  cow  trade,  however  agreeable,  was  no 
laughing  matter,  and,  as  he  now  worked 
himself  through  the  bars  and  walked  about 
among  the  animals,  carefully  scrutinizing 
their  points,  his  face  was  very  grave. 

"  George,"  he  said,  solemnly,  after  a 
lengthy  inspection,  "  I  ivisli  it  war' n't  gittin' 
so  dark.  I  like  them  two  large  red  critters: 
but  'tain't  no  use  decidin',"  he  added,  with 
a  despondent  shake  of  his  head;  "  I  couldn't 
like  ter  say  what  they  w^uz  wuth,  in  all  this 
dark." 

He  came  out  through  the  bars  and  stood 
contemplating  Brayton  with  a  look  of  dreamy 
calculation  that  indicated  that  he  was  men- 
tally struggling  with  the  preparation  of  an 
offer  in  spite  of  the  darkness. 

"  Naow,"  he  finally  said,  concluding  to 
shift  this    great   responsibility  to  Brayton's 


48        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill 

shoulders;  '' naow,  what  would  yer  idee  be 
fur  them  two?  " 

"They  are  worth  more,"  said  Brayton, 
"  but  I  don't  want  to  winter  them,  and  you 
can  take  them  for  one  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  dollars." 

"That'll  dew!  that'll  dew,  George,"  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Bradshaw,  with  a  simulated 
excitement  that  would  have  deceived  the 
unwary.  "  'Tain't  no  use't  uv  us  to  talk. 
I  can't  give  no  sech  money.  Waal,  I  must 
be  a-goin'  —  good-night,  good-night,"  he 
added,  as  he  went  over  to  where  his  horse 
and  wao-on  were  standing:.  He  untied  the 
animal,  climbed  into  the  wagon,  and  started 
off  with  a  jerk;  then  checked  the  horse,  and 
reflected  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees. 

"  George,"  he  called  softly  through  the 
darkness. 

"  Hallo,"  answered  Brayton,  coming  to- 
ward the  wagon. 


The  Strike,  49 


"  George  —  haow  would  a  hundred  and 
my  crumpled-horn  Dutch  cow  suit  ye? 
she's  a  mighty  likely  cow,  I  tell  ye,  naow. 
They  ain't  wuth  it  :  but  I  think  a  sight 
uv  ye^  tew,  George,"  he  added,  with  a 
twinkle  of  the  eye  that  the  darkness  could 
not  quite  conceal. 

"  No,  Mr.  Bradshaw,"  said  Brayton,  flick- 
ing the  ashes  from  his  cigar;  "I  ought  to 
have  two  hundred  for  them.  Think  my 
ofl:er  over." 

"Waal,"  said  the  other,  "I  will;  but 
'tain't  no  use.  Not  a  mite."  He  consid- 
ered a  moment.  "  Half  Durham  ye  said, 
George?" 

"Yes,  more  than  that,"  said  Brayton. 

"Um-m-m,"  pondered  Mr.  Bradshaw; 
"waal,  P'<9c<^-nicrht.  Mother'll  think  I'm 
lost,  I'm  fear'd.  And  mother  knows  how  t' 
speak  uv  anythin'  thet's  bin  layin'  on  her 
mind  fur  an  hour  or  two,"  he  added,  with  a 


50        The  Stf'ike  in  the  B Mill, 

gasping  chuckle,  as  he  drove  off,  highly 
pleased  with  this  auspicious  opening  of  a 
trade  that  was  likely  to  last  for  a  month  or 
two,  at  least.  Indeed,  a  similar  transac- 
tion had  been  known  to  serve  Mr.  Bradshaw 
as  a  pleasant  recreation  for  his  idle  hours 
during  an  entire  winter,  and  until  the  grow- 
ing pressure  of  spring  w^ork  hastened  its 
consummation,  or  decided  the  parties  to 
finally  declare  off. 


CHAPTER   II. 

ATTEMPTS    AT    ADJUSTMENT. 

T^HE  great  factory  stood  silent  and 
-^  deserted.  The  smoke  of  its  fires  no 
longer  ascended  from  the  throats  of  the  tall 
chimneys.  The  whir  and  rattle  of  its 
machinery  were  still,  and  the  tread  of  hun- 
dreds of  feet  and  sound  of  talk  and  laugh- 
ter, heard  morning,  noon,  and  night  for  so 
man}'  years,  were  replaced  by  the  foot- fall 
of  the  solitary  watchman  on  the  flags  of 
the  court  or  ascending  the  deserted  stair- 
ways. 

On  the  farther  side,  the  waters  of  the  wide 
river,  no  longer  partially  diverted  into  the 
flume,  poured  over  the  dam  with  ceaseless 
roar,  and  dashed  swiftly  by  the  stone  foun- 
dations of  the  huge  group  of  buildings  that 

51 


5  2         The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

overhung  the  stream.  Always  hitherto  as- 
sociated with  the  activities  of  men  and  the 
noise  of  their  occupancy,  the  great  silent 
pile  now  stood  there  seemingl}^  the  vast 
mausoleum  of  a  dead  industry. 

The  directors,  seated  in  the  office  of  the 
mill  on  the  day  after  the  strike,  did  not 
wear  very  pleasant  faces  as  they  discussed 
a  situation  that  needed  little  explanation. 

Upon  the  entrance  of  the  superintendent, 
a  few  minutes  after  the  opening  of  the  meet- 
ing, he,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  president, 
addressed  the  board. 

"  I  do  not  care,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  in 
his  usual  deliberate  tones,  "  to  speak  at  any 
length  to  you  on  the  causes  that  have  led  to 
this  strike.  My  views  w^ere  very  fully  ex- 
pressed with  regard  to  these  wages,  when 
you  asked  for  them  at  your  last  meeting, 
and  they  are  unchanged.  You  know  that  I 
think  that  some  advances  should   be  made. 


Attempts  at  Adjustment.  53 

Perhaps  some  of  you  will  have  now  come 
around  to  my  way  of  thinking.  The  adjust- 
ment of  wages,  usually  left  with  me,  has 
been,  as  you  are  aware,  in  this  case,  taken 
out  of  my  hands  by  the  treasurer,  as  involv- 
ing a  very  large  expenditure,  and  his  opin- 
ions have  hitherto  been  sustained  by  your 
board.  I  now  ask  to  have  this  matter  left 
with  me  to  adjust,  if  possible;  but  under 
your  instructions.  As  to  whether  I  am  to  deal 
with  the  organization  that  has  ordered  these 
people  out,  it  is  for  you  to  say,  if  you  con- 
clude that  something  may  be  done  in  the 
way  of  increasing  the  wages  complained  of. 
I  am  decidedly  of  opinion  that  you  should 
give  me  the  right,  at  least  to  talk  with  their 
officials  and  hear  what  they  have  to  say.  I 
can  then  report  to  you,  and  it  will  be  for 
you  to  determine  finally  whether  to  ratify 
any  arrangement  I  can  come  at  with  them. 
In  our  present  position,  and  dealing  with  a 


54        The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

difficulty  that  might  threaten  the  very  life  of 
the  corporation,  the  final  responsibility  should 
lie  with  the  whole  board.  No  one  official 
would  be  willing  to  assume  it." 

The  superintendent  stopped  and  reached 
his  hand  to  the  back  of  a  chair,  as  if  about 
to  sit  down.  He  hesitated,  rubbed  his  chin 
thoughtfully,  and  added;  "My  earnest  ad- 
vice, as  an  officer  and  stockholder  here,  is, 
that,  as  we  are  in  the  wrong  to  a  greater  or 
less  extent,  we  should  not  be  too  nice  as  to 
the  method  of  adjusting  this  wage  difference, 
so  that  it  be  done  equitably  and  quickly." 

He  looked  the  directors  squarely  in  the 
face,  and  sat  down  as  he  concluded. 

A  little  pause  followed.  The  directors 
looked  at  each  other,  and  each  waited  for 
another  to  say  something. 

Presently  a  youngish,  rather  good-looking 
man,  with  a  bronzed  face  and  direct,  off- 
hand manner,  said  that  he  wasn't  ashamed 


Attempts  at  Adjtist7nent.  55 


to  admit  that  he  quite  agreed  with  Mr.  Mal- 
colm, that  something  ought  to  have  been 
done  long  ago  about  the  wages  in  question: 
and  he  now  moved  the  board  that  the  super- 
intendent be  fully  authorized  to  settle  this 
matter — with  the  operatives  or  anybody,  he 
didn't  much  care  who  —  in  the  best  manner 
that  suggested  itself  to  him.  He  might 
report  to  the  board  if  he  pleased,  but  he 
thought  the  board  had  better  back  a  man 
who  seemed  to  have  known  more  than  any 
one  of  them.  "  For  my  part,"  he  added,  "  I 
don't  care  a  straw  about  the  means  in  this 
matter,  so  that  they  are  fair  and  above 
board.  Let  us  have  justice  done  to  the 
hands  and  the  mill  started  up,  for  their  and 
our  own  sakes,  as  soon  as  possible." 

Mr.  Hartwell,  the  treasurer,  who  was,  of 
course,  a  member  of  the  board,  now  thought 
it  time  for  him  to  interpose,  and,  rising,  re- 
gretted to   disagree  with  his  young /riend, 


56        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

Mr.  Alston;  "as  to  the  superintendent,"  he 
said,  with  a  gentle  smile  toward  that  gentle- 
man, "  he  and  I  are  too  much  accustomed  to 
that  sort  of  thing  to  mind  it  much." 

Mr.  Hartwell  then  went  on  to  express 
himself  as  totally  opposed  to  any  dealings 
with  this  offensive  organization,  that  was 
spreading  over  the  land  and  dictating  to 
capital  and  labor  alike. 

He  attributed  to  its  pernicious  influence 
all  the  trouble  that  they  and  others  were 
having  with  their  labor;  and  he  considered 
that  the  future  existence  of  the  industrial 
enterprises  of  the  countr}^,  in  which  so 
much  capital  was  invested,  depended  on  the 
crushing  out  of  the  "  Associates  of  Toil," 
—  upon  strictly  refusing  to  recognize  them 
in  the  slightest  particular.  In  the  matter  of 
wages,  he  must  say  that  he  failed  to  see  that 
they  (the  corporation)  were  specially  to 
blame.     In  fact,  he  thought  it  clearly  their 


Attempts  at  Adjiistment.  57 

duty  to  get  their  labor  as  cheaply  as  was 
possible.  That  was  business,  and  this  was 
no  place  for  sentimental  considerations.  He 
was  not  sure  that  the  wiser  course  was  not 
to  close  the  mill  awhile  until  the  people 
were  ready  to  come  back  at  the  old  rates, 
or  get  others  who  would  be  glad  to  receive 
them.  But,  at  all  events,  and  whether  they 
were  right  or  wrong  about  the  wages,  he 
hoped  no  negotiations  would  be  permitted 
with  officials  of  the  "Associates  of  Toil"; 
in  conclusion,  he  trusted  that  the  well-meant 
but  rather  ill-considered  views  previously 
expressed  would  not  prevail  with  the  board. 
A  portly  personage,  dressed  in  irreproach- 
able broadcloth,  but  with  rather  dirty  finger- 
nails, remarked,  in  a  loud  and  disagreeable 
voice,  without  rising  from  his  chair,  that  he 
should  think  an  intelligent  board  of  direc- 
tors, who  had,  some  of  them,  been  manu- 
facturing goods  all  their  lives,  were  compe- 


58        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

tent  to  run  the  B Mills  without  any  help 

from  such  a  concern  as  the  "  Associates  of 
Toil."  That  he  was  in  favor  of  making  no 
talk  or  concessions  to  any  one.  He  thought 
they  could  stand  it  as  long  as  the  hands 
could.  If  they  wanted  to  stay  out,  send  to 
Canada  or  somewhere,  fill  up  the  mill  with 
new  help,  and  go  ahead. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Alston,  quickly,  "  we 
ought  to  have  some  regard  for  the  abstract 
rights  of  others,  Mr.  Williams.  I  do  not 
care  to  go  into  a  fight  with  these  poor  peo- 
ple, when  I  feel  that  we  are  wrong  at  the 
start.  I've  looked  into  this  matter  a  little, 
and  have  no  doubt  of  the  substantial  justice 
of  most  of  their  claims.  Therefore  I  cannot 
agree  with  you,  sir." 

"  If  you  had  reached  my  time  of  life,  sir," 
retorted  Mr.  Williams,  huffily,  "  and  had 
worked  for  your  money,  instead  of  inherit- 
ing it,  you'd  know  rather  more  than  you  do 
now,  perhaps." 


Attempts  at  Adjustinefit,  59 

A  pale  gentleman,  seated  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  table,  here  put  up  a  single  eye- 
glass with  his  partly  gloved  hand. 

"Oh,  —  I  say,  now,  Mr.  President,"  he 
said,  with  a  strong  rising  inflection;  "this 
sort  of  thing  won't  do,  don't  you  know.  I 
really  must  rise  to  a  point  of  order,  sir." 

The  gentleman  did  not  actually  arise, 
notwithstanding  his  expressed  intention,  but 
the  president  observed  him,  and  said, 
"  Well,  well,  gentlemen,  we  don't  seem  to 
be  getting  on.  Shall  I  put  this  motion 
of  Mr.  Alston's,  or  what  would  any  one 
advise  ?  " 

"  I  don't  wish,"  he  added,  mildly,  "  to 
have  too  much  to  say  myself  But  I  have 
been  thinking  a  little,  lately,  that  perhaps 
these  people  we  employ  have  rather  a 
hard  time  of  it,  and  it  is  not  precisely  the 
thing,  you  7nay  agree,  to  pay  them  less 
than    they    earn.      Pray   receive    this    as    a 


6o        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 


mere  suggestion,  for  I  should  not  presume 
to  dictate.  As  to  the  '  Associates  of  Toil,' 
I  don't  know  really  what  to  say  —  upon  my 
word,  I  don't.  Had  we  not  better  have  a 
little  farther  expression  of  opinion?  Now, 
for  instance,  what  do  you  think  about  deal- 
ing with  them,  Mr.  Watson?"  he  concluded, 
turning  with  a  bow  to  the  gentleman  at  his 
elbow;  and,  having  passed  the  matter  along, 
as  it  were,  he  sat  down  with  an  air  of  re- 
lief, and,  stretching  out  his  legs,  thrust  both 
hands  in  his  pockets. 

The  discussion  now  assumed  a  more  col- 
loquial form,  and  continued  for  some  time, 
the  stronger  feeling  seeming  to  be  against 
dealing  with  the  "Associates  of  Toil." 
But,  upon  the  farther  representation  of  the 
superintendent  that  their  chief  official 
seemed  a  very  fair  man,  it  was  decided 
that  he  might  consult  provisionally  with 
him,  and  report  to   the   board  a  few  days 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  6i 

later,  when  it  could  finally  determine  as  to 
the  manner  of  settlement  and  the  schedule 
of  wages  that  should  be  paid.  The  direc- 
tors, in  view  of  the  disagreement  between 
its  officials  on  the  questions  at  issue,  seemed 
inclined  to  keep  the  matter  in  their  own 
hands,  as  suggested  by  the  superintendent. 
After  the  adjournment,  it  might  have  been 
observed  that  Mr.  Alston  and  the  president 
went  away  together. 

Separated  during  their  short  railway  ride 
to  the  city  by  the  crowded  state  of  the 
train,  they  rejoined  each  other  at  their 
destination. 

"  Let  me  set  you  down  at  your  house, 
Mr.  Alston,"  said  the  president.  "  My  car- 
riage is  here,  I  believe." 

As  they  rolled  smoothly  through  the 
streets,  they  passed  several  half-finished 
buildings.  While  the  hour  was  late  for 
workmen  to  be  seen  about  them,  yet  it  was 


62         TJie  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

plain  that  none  would  have  been  there  had 
it  been  earlier  in  the  day.  For  that  peculiar 
appearance  of  neglect  that  things  intended 
for  immediate  use  assume  when  left  for  a 
considerable  time  exposed  to  the  elements, 
pervaded  the  masses  of  material  —  the  lum- 
ber, mortar,  and  stone  —  piled  in  and  about 
them.  Evidently  there  had  been  no  work 
done  upon  them  for  some  time. 

The  president  pointed  to  one  of  these 
premature  ruins  as  they  drove  by. 

"  Strikes  everywhere,"  he  remarked, 
briefly. 

"Yes,"  said  Alston;  "the  thing  really 
amounts  to  an  epidemic." 

"  Um,"  murmured  the  president,  reflec- 
tively, as  he  drummed  with  his  fingers  upon 
the  sash  of  the  carriage  window. 

"Some  reasonable,"  he  said  again; 
"  others  quite  the  reverse,  I  should  say." 

"  Many  of  them  —  yes,"  answered  Alston; 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  63 


"  and  it  is  noticeable  that  where  the  strikers 
are  manifestly  in  the  wrong,  they  seem  far 
more  earnest  and  bitter  than  when  they  are 
simply  standing  out  to  get  what  they  ought 
to  have." 

"  Better  come  and  dine  with  me,"  said 
the  president,  rather  irrelevantly;  adding, 
after  a  pause,  "  We  might  talk  our  matters 
over  a  little,  perhaps." 

"  Thanks,  very  much,"  said  Alston,  with 
a  surprised  look ;  for  his  acquaintance  with 
his  companion  had  been  slight,  and  effusive 
hospitality,  even  within  its  own  charmed 
circle,  was  by  no  means  a  characteristic  of 
the  society  in  which  they  moved;  "  but  Mrs. 
A.  will  hardly  allow  of  it,  I  fear.  However, 
my  dear  sir,"  he  added,  "  as  you  are  not 
hampered  in  that  way,  pray  stop  and  take 
^pot-luck'  with  me,  instead.  I  certainly 
should  be  glad  to  discuss  our  affairs  with 
you. 


64         The  SU'ike  in  the  B MilL 

"Come,  Mr.  Phillips,  here  we  are,"  he 
added,  as  the  carriage  stopped  in  front  of 
his  own  door. 

That  gentleman,  after  some  demur,  and 
objecting  that  he  was  not  dressed  for  din- 
ner, yielded,  and,  dismissing  his  carriage, 
accompanied  Alston  into  the  house. 

A  charming  little  girl  ran  to  meet  her 
father  in  the  hall,  and,  swung  up  on  his  arm, 
looked  inquiringly  at  the  stranger  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  Really,  a  very  pretty  child  —  very 
pretty,"  said  Mr.  Phillips,  with  the  embar- 
rassment of  an  old  bachelor  in  the  presence 
of  that  singular  creature,  a  child;  "yours,  I 
presume,"  he  added. 

"  Well,  rather^'^  said  Alston,  w^Ith  a 
laugh,  pinching  the  child's  cheek:  "aren't 
you,  ducky?  But,  pray  walk  in  and  sit 
down,  and  I  will  join  you  in  a  moment,"  he 
went  on,  opening  the  parlor  door. 


Attempts  at  Adjustment.  65 

Alston  ran  up  the  staircase  two  steps  at 
a  time,  with  the  child  in  his  arms,  and,  burst- 
ing into  his  wife's  boudoir,  kissed  that 
pretty  little  lady  impetuously. 

"  Ada,  my  darling,"  he  said,  tossing  the 
child  in  his  strong  hands,  "  you  should  really 
be  uncommonly  particular  with  the  menu 
this  evening,  for  that  eminent  club  man  and 
gourmand,  Mr.  Phillips,  honors  us — even 
now  he  awaits  our  coming,  below !  " 

"  Do  take  care  of  that  child,  Ned,"  ex- 
claimed his  wife;  "there,  put  her  down, 
do.  And  how  can  I  be  particular,  with  this 
late  warning?  " 

"  Ah  —  the  hour  is,  indeed,  too  late," 
said  Alston,  with  mock  solemnity.  "  He 
must  e'en  take  us  as  we  are." 

"  Is  this  Mr.  Phillips  your  mill  president?" 
she  asked,  adding:  "  Come,  give  the  baby 
to  Ellen,  and  let  me  talk  to  you,  for  you 
have  been  away  all  day." 


66        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

With  a  final  toss,  Alston  brought  the 
little  girl's  flushed,  laughing  face  down  to 
his  own,  and,  with  a  hearty  kiss,  handed  her 
to  the  nurse,  who  had  followed  them  up 
stairs. 

"  Scant  time  for  sweet  converse  now, 
your  ladyship,"  he  said,  to  his  wife,  as  he 
started  for  his  dressing-room;  "the  presi- 
dent is,  without  doubt,  in  high  dudgeon 
alread}^,  at  being  left  to  his  own  entertain- 
ment so  long."  He  returned  in  a  few 
minutes  and  seized  bodily  upon  his  wife: 
"  Have  dinner  served  forthwith,"  he  said, 
in  mock  heroic  tones,  "  and  let  us  down- 
wards, in  God's  name  —  as  the  pious  Oriental 
puts  it." 

"  You  and  Malcolm  seem  to  rather  pull 
together  in  this  business,"  remarked  Mr. 
Phillips,  as  he  and  Alston  sat  alone,  smok- 
ing, in  the  dining-room,  after  dinner. 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  67 

"Well,"  said  Alston,  "he  is  too  near 
right,  I  believe,  and  he  ought  to  be  sup- 
ported. It  is  about  time,  Mr.  Phillips,  that 
some  of  us  took  a  little  thought  of  the  peo- 
ple whom  we  employ,  as  well  as  of  the 
iroods  we  make  and  sell.  As  a  man  of 
leisure,  I  certainly  can  find  no  excuse  for 
neglect  of  any  such  duty  —  at  my  age,  at 
least,"  he  added,  not  wishing  to  imply  any 
rebuke  to  his  companion.  "  I  now  propose," 
he  went  on,  "to  interest  myself  in  this  labor 
question,  as  I  have  been  brought  face  to  face 
with  it.  It  is  a  shame  that  these  operatives 
have  suffered  injustice  at  our  hands  so  long." 

"  For  my  part,"  returned  the  elder  gentle- 
man, after  a  pause,  "  I  am  extremely  annoyed 
that  I  am  brought  face  to  face  with  the  ques- 
tion at  all.  I  want  to  live  in  peace.  That's 
why  I  sold  my  ships  and  gave  up  business; 
and  in  allowing  myself  to  be  president  of 
this  concern  I  did  not  anticipate  any  bothera- 


68        The  Strike  i7i  the  B Mill. 

tion  —  simply  supposed  I  was  standing  for 
the  stock  of  our  family.  However," — Mr. 
Phillips  paused  and  took  a  puff  or  two  at 
his  cigar,  —  "as  things  are,  —  "he  pulled 
again  at  his  cigar  —  "I  feel  inclined  to  your 
view;  and,  without  desiring  to  be  put  about 
much  with  it,  you  may  as  well  count  on  my 
being  with  you  in  the  event  of  controversy." 

Mr.  Phillips  was  by  no  means  a  garru- 
lous man,  and,  considered  by  his  friends  to 
be  a  most  excellent  listener,  he  largely  con- 
tented himself  with  that  role.  He  now 
looked  as  if  a  little  bored  by  his  own  long 
speech,  and,  returning  his  cigar  to  his  lips, 
smoked  vigorously. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  this," 
said  Alston. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  he  went  on,  after  they 
had  sat  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  "  but 
what  our  whole  manufacturing  system  here 
is  going  by  the  board.     We  are  not  making 


Attempts  at  Adjustment.  69 

much,  and  the  operatives  don't  seem  to  be 
doing  very  v^^ell,  either,  even  where  they 
are  receiving  fair  wages.  It  seems  as  if 
there  were  something  wrong  somewhere. 
I  really  must  think  it  over.  I  never  have 
before." 

Mr.  Phillips  knocked  the  ashes  from  his 
cigar,  turned  the  burning  end  toward  his 
face,  and  contemplated  it  with  profound 
interest. 

"I  think  we'll  hold  on  to  the  B stock 

yet  awhile,"  he  said,  slowly;  "wouldn't  be 
fair  to  get  out.  Must  stand  b}^  the  ship,  I 
should  say  —  see  the  thing  through." 

"Oh,  by  all  means,"  said  Alston;  "and  I 
dare  say  our  particular  trouble  will  be  soon 
over,  now  that  you  are  disposed,  with  me, 
not  to  stand  on  punctilio  with  the  strikers. 
It  is  the  general  condition  of  the  manufac- 
turing interest  and  the  future  of  the  labor- 
ino:-man  that  I'm  thinkino^  of" 


70        The  Strike  in  the  B J//7/. 

"  Ah,  yes,  —  certainly,"  said  iNIr.  Phil- 
lips. "Interesting  matter  to  look  into  — 
very." 

He  laid  his  cigar  end  in  the  ash-tray. 
"Would  you  mind,"  he  said,  "my  sa3'ing 
good-night,  to  INIrs.  Alston,  as  I  am  due  for 
a  game  of  whist  at  the  club,  and  fear  I 
shall  be  late?" 

As  Mr.  Phillips  exchanged  a  few  words 
with  his  hostess  in  the  drawing-room,  he, 
while  expressing  his  delight  at  making  her 
acquaintance,  added  confidentially,  "I  have 
taken  rather  a  fancy  for  your  husband,  my 
dear  madam.  Seems  a  pretty  good  sort  of 
fellow,  on  the  whole." 

Mrs.  Alston  laughed.  "  I  am  sure,"  she 
said,  "  that  if  we  agree  as  well  on  all  ques- 
tions as  we  do  on  this,  I  shall  always  be 
delighted  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Phillips." 

"Do  you  hunt  Thursday,  Ned?"  she 
said  to  her  husband,  as  they  walked  slowly 


Attempts  at  Adjustment.  71 


together  up  and  down  the  room,  after  their 
visitor  had  gone. 

"No,   dear.     I  must  be  again  at  F , 

when  I  hope  we  shall  be  able  to  finish  up 
the  strike." 

"You  seem,"  she  said,  "very  much  inter- 
ested in  this  strike.  I  never  knew  you  to 
care  anything  about  the  affairs  of  that  cor- 
poration before.  Was  it  about  them  that 
you  and  Mr.  Phillips  have  been  talking  so 
long  in  the  dining-room?" 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "The  truth  is,  Ada,  I 
intend  to  interest  myself  far  more  in  these 
matters  in  the  future." 

"Where  is  the  need?"  she  asked. 
"  Things  have  gone  along  very  well  with- 
out you  hitherto,  haven't  they?" 

"Well,  I  should  say  7iot,  in  some  re- 
spects. I  have  been  abroad  almost  continu- 
ously since  elected  a  director.  Some  things 
might  have  been  different,  perhaps,  if  I  had 


72         The  Strike  in  the  B Mill 


been  here  and  understood  and  attended  to 
my  business." 

"I  thought,"  said  Mrs.  Alston,  innocently, 
^'  that  directors  of  corporations  never  did 
either." 

Alston  smiled  dubiously.  "  I  fear,"  he 
said,  "  that  you  are  not  altogether  wrong 
there.  But  they  ought  to  —  in  justice  to  the 
stockholders  and  to  those  with  whom  the 
corporation  deals.  /';;/  going  to  turn  over 
a  new  leaf." 

"  Ah,"  said  his  wife,  laughing,  "  when  you 
say  that,  it  means  something.  I  can  recall 
several  leaves  that  you  have  turned  during 
our  acquaintance,  and  they  have  never  been 
folded  back,"  she  added,  looking  fondly  up 
at  him.  "Well,  as  Mr.  Phillips  says,  you 
'  seem  a  pretty  good  sort  of  fellow,'  Ned. 
I  am  quite  sure  that  I  shall  feel  much 
easier  to  have  you  attending  directors' 
meetings    than    riding    that    great    vicious 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  73 

creature  of  yours  over  stone  walls.  Why 
won't  you  sell  him,  Ned,  dear,  and  get 
something  more  reasonable  to  ride?" 

"Oh  —  he's  quiet  as  a  lamb,"  said  Alston, 
laughing. 

"  I  should  think  he  was  —  'just  about'  — 
as  John  Leach's  picture  has  it.  He  skipped 
from  the  ground  with  all  four  feet,  the  other 
day,  precisely  as  I've  seen  lambs  do.  Well, 
Ned,"  she  continued,  drawing  down  her 
face,  and  speaking  with  great  gravity,  "  if 
you  have  no  regard  for  your  life,  you  might 
consider  your  wife  and  child." 

"That's  the  final,  the  unanswerable  argu- 
ment," he  said,  still  laughing.  "But  please, 
little  woman,  don't  be  quite  so  absurd." 
He  had  his  arm  about  her,  and  drew  her  to 
his  side. — "You  know,"  he  went  on,  "  that 
Pat  and  I  had  it  all  out  in  Ireland,  and  his 
conduct  has  been  really  quite  exemplary 
since  he  found  that  I  was  a  little  too  much 


74        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

for  him.  He  is  so  good  a  fencer  that  I  hate 
to  lose  him."  Alston  looked  at  his  watch. 
*'  I  agreed,"  he  said,  "  to  see  M a  mo- 
ment this  evening,  and,  though  it  is  late,  I 
ou£:ht  to  so  around  there.  I  shall  be  back 
directly." 

The  streets  of  F seemed  full  of  peo- 
ple on  the  second  evening  after  the  events 
already  described. 

Many  men  were,  as  usual,  standing  about 
the  corners,  but  more  were  moving  in  a  par- 
ticular direction.  It  was  evident  that  some 
event  of  importance  had  called  them  out  in 
unusual  numbers  for  a  common  purpose. 
Here  and  there  was  a  little  knot  of  young 
women  and  girls,  who  seemed  to  keep  apart 
from  the  men  for  the  most  part,  though 
they  exchanged  salutations  with  those  of 
their  acquaintance  who  passed.  They  in- 
dulged   in    loud    talk    and    laughter,    and 


Attempts  at  Adjiistinent.  75 

seemed  to  be  enjo3'ing  their  respite  from 
work  and  the  general  novelty  of  the  situa- 
tion. Many  of  the  men  and  a  few  of  the 
older  women  turned  into  a  doorway,  within 
which  the  lighted  staircase  led  to  a  hall  in 
the  second  story  of  a  large  building,  where 
a  meeting  of  the  "  Associates  of  Toil  "  was 
assembling. 

Upon  a  little  platform  at  the  end  of  the 
long  room  two  men  were  writing  at  a  table, 
and  several  others  stood  by  them  talking 
earnestly  together.  The  hall  gradually  filled 
with  men.  Many  of  them  were  neatly 
dressed,  others  were  in  their  workino-  cloth- 
ing;  while  yet  others  stood  about  in  their 
shirt-sleeves,  for  the  weather  was  not  cold, 
and  the  lights  and  the  presence  of  so  many  in 
the  hall  made  the  heat  oppressive.  Clouds 
of  smoke  from  the  pipes  and  cigars,  in  many 
mouths,  floated  through  the  open  windows 
and  settled  about  the  low  ceiling. 


76        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

A  few  women  were  to  be  seen  in  the 
crowd;  mostly  middle-aged,  with  anxious 
faces  looking  eagerly  toward  the  platform, 
as  if  from  there  they  hoped  to  receive  a 
solution  of  the  vexed  question  of  the  hour, 
which  it  was  evident  that  they,  at  least,  did 
not  regard  with  indifference. 

The  several  days  of  the  strike  had,  to  a 
certain  extent,  also  affected  the  spirits  of 
the  men  present.  For  while  here  and  there 
might  be  heard  a  joke  or  laugh,  most  of 
them  were  quiet  and  seemed  inclined  to  take 
the  meeting  seriously,  though  there  was  no 
despondency  visible  among  them,  as  yet. 
The  loose  settees  sometimes  used  in  the  hall 
had  been  removed,  and  all  were  standing. 

Presently  a  man  left  the  group  on  the 
platform,  and,  raising  his  hand  for  attention, 
addressed  the  people.  He  was  slenderly 
made,  with  a  fine  intellectual  face,  and  his 
voice  was    clear    and    pleasant.       His    Ian- 


Attefupts  at  Adjtistmefit,  77 


o-Liao-e  bore  no  traces  of  want  of  culture, 
and  his  whole  presence  inspired  respect 
and  confidence.  It  was  William  Darragh, 
a  member  of  the  general  executive  board 
of  the  "  Associates  of  Toil."  He  spoke 
briefly,  and  forcibly:  — 

"  My  friends,"  he  said,  "  the  organization 
of  which  I  am  proud  to  be  an  oflScial  has 
been  the   means   of  enabling  you  to  make 
this    movement   in    the    assertion    of    your 
rights,  in  a  manly  and  united  manner.     The 
great    corporation    in    whose    employ   you 
have  been,  has  seen  fit  to  pay  you  for  your 
toil    less   than   it    is   worth    and    commands 
elsewhere.     Your  respectful  remonstrances 
and  demands,  individually  and  as  an  organ- 
ization,   have    been     disregarded,    and    at 
length  your  executive  committee  has,  in  the 
exercise   of  its   authority,  ordered  that  you 
cease  to  work  on  these  unequal  terms.     In 
an  orderly  manner  you  have  done  so,  as  our 


78        The  Strike  2?i  the  B Mill 

order  prescribes.  You  seek  not  to  injure 
any  man,  or  to  interfere  with  any  vested 
rights  in  this  assertion  of  your  own.  But 
you  emphasize  the  simple  proposition  that 
for  value  we  are  entitled  to  equal  value,  and 
that  no  man  or  company  can  exact  service 
from  another  without  his  consent  and  a  fair 
compensation.  There  must  be  fair-minded 
men  on  the  other  side,  and  I  believe  that 
what  you  have  done  will  effect  the  desired 
results.  Meanwhile,  do  not  forget  that  the 
ends  of  the  '  Associates  of  Toil '  are  only 
to  be  obtained  by  peaceful  and  legal  meth- 
ods. Let  no  act  of  violence  or  even  men- 
ace, injure  the  fair  fame  of  the  order  and 
the  cause  of  the  laboring-man  here  and 
elsewhere.  Law  must  reign  supreme  in 
this  land,  or  our  boasted  freedom  is  but  a 
synonym  for  license  and  anarchy,  with 
which  the  'Associates  of  Toil '  have  noth- 
ing to  do.  We  work  within  the  law,  not 
otherwise." 


Attefupts  at  Adjustment,  79 

The  speaker  pronounced  these  words 
with  emphasis,  and  the  audience  responded 
with  some  applause.  After  a  pause  he 
went  on. 

"  There  has  been  a  little  delay,  but  I  am 
glad  to  say  that  the  superintendent  is  now 
willing  to  talk  with  me,  and  I  have  been, 
therefore,  deputed  to  see  him;  I  go  from 
this  meeting  for  that  purpose.  He  is  in 
possession  of  your  schedule  of  wages;  I 
understand  him  to  be  a  just  man,  —  " 

"A  hard  man,  you  mane!"  shouted  a 
stout  fellow,  who  was  leaning  against  the 
side  of  the  entrance  door  of  the  hall,  smok- 
ing a  short  black  pipe.  The  interruption 
was  well  received  by  others,  who  added, 
"  That's  so,"  —  "A  damned  hard  man  he 
is," — and  other  corroborative  exclamations. 
Darragh  quietly  waited,  and,  when  the 
voices  ceased,  he  continued  in  his  former 
stead}^    tone,   and    apparently    waiving    the 


8o        The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

question  of  the  superintendent's  character. 
"  At  any  rate,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  see  him, 
and  to-morrow  evening,  at  seven  o'clock, 
meet  me  here,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  can 
be  done,  if  anything. 

"  My  brothers  of  the  local  committee," 
he  added,  "  inform  me  that  there  is  no  busi- 
ness for  us  now  to  transact,  and  I  suggest 
that  we  adjourn  until  the  time  I  have 
named." 

He  bowed  and  drew  back,  when  a  man 
in  the  middle  of  the  hall  called  out,  "  Are 
any  arrangements  made  to  help  us  to  live 
while  we're  out  on  strike?" 

"  It  is  hoped,"  said  Darragh,  returning  to 
the  front  of  the  platform,  "  that  the  strike 
will  be  ended  so  soon  that  no  aid  will  be 
required.  But  if  we  are  disappointed,  a 
finance  committee  will  be  appointed  by 
you,  and  I  hope  enough  will  be  forthcom- 
ing."    He   paused   a   moment,  then   added, 


Attefiipts  at  Adjustment,  8i 

"  The  large  number  of  these  movements 
that  are  simultaneously  taking  place  in  the 
country  are  taxing  our  resources  heavil}^, 
and  I  trust  that  prudent  counsels  will 
prevail  in  this  case,  so  that  the  necessity 
will  not  arise  for  further  drafts  upon  our 
burdened  people  elsewhere."  He  again 
bowed,  and  the  people  who  had  waited  for 
his  answer  slowly  filed  out  of  the  hall,  dis- 
cussing the  prospect  among  themselves. 

A  number  of  the  men  collected  on  the 
sidewalk  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  about  one 
who  was  loudly  expressing  his  views.  He 
was  one  of  those  who  had  been  upon  the 
platform  in  the  hall. 

"  I  gave  in  to  Darragh  to-night,"  he  said, 
as  if  in  explanation,  "  but  me  and  him  don't 
agree  about  some  things.  He'll  do  no  good 
with  the  superintendent,  I  don't  believe. 
And  he  won't  listen  to  anythin'  bein'  said 
about  the    scabs,   neither.     There's    more'n 


82         The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

two  hundred  men  that  don't  belong  to  us, 
and  ain't  in  this  strike.  They're  only  out 
of  the  mill  because  there's  nothin'  for  'em 
to  do.  They're  ready  to  go  to  work  any 
minute,  for  all  us."  The  man  stopped  and 
looked  at  the  men  about  him:  — "  I'll  tell 
you  what  it  is,  boys,"  he  went  on,  in  a  still 
louder  voice,  "  these  fellows  won't  join  the 
^  Associates  of  Toil,'  and  Tm  damned  if  I 
work  in  that  mill  along  side  of  'em  again." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  another.  "  Those  men  had 
ought  to  join  us,  or  clear  out  entirely." 

"  Well,"  said  an  elderly  man,  with  a 
shrewd,  puckered  little  face,  "  hadn't  we 
better  wait  and  see  what  Darragh  can  do 
about  the  wages  first?  I  struck  to  get  better 
pay,  I  did,  and  —  " 

"If  dey  vill  not  vat  you  vants  give  —  tak 
it  then,"  struck  in  a  guttural  voice  at  the 
elbow  of  the  last  speaker.  It  was  that  of  a 
man  apparently  a  stranger  to  those  present, 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  83 

for  they  looked  at  him  with  some  surprise 
when  he  spoke.  He  was  a  fat  man,  of  a 
rather  dirty  and  unwholesome  appearance. 
His  stubb}^,  black  beard  embellished  a 
rubicund  visage,  whose  small,  black  eyes 
twinkled  above  the  fat  cheeks  with  sinister 
lustre.  He  spoke  with  a  strong  foreign 
accent,  and  with  a  breath  redolent  of  beer. 

"  Ach,"  he  continued,  as  he  observed  that 
he  commanded  the  attention  of  the  party; 
^'  vy  idly  do  my  broders  stand  ?  Der  power 
in  your  hands  ish  —  make  then  to  dremple 
your  obbressors !  " 

The  men  reojarded  him  with  increasinof 
curiosity. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  asked  one,  after  a 
pause;  "  I  never  saw  you  before." 

The  stranger  took  a  large  German  pipe 
from  his  mouth,  and  struck  an  attitude  in- 
tended to  be  imposing. 

"  I    am    of  der  towndrotten    a    savior  — 


84        The  Strike  i7i  the  B Mill, 

an  encourager,"  he  said.  "  I  gome  alvays  to 
help  unci  deliver.  Look  you — I  recognize 
no  laws;  mait  all  of  dem  to  der  poor  subju- 
gate. I  deach  you  der  lesson  to  annihilate 
dem  laws,  and  of  the  blenty  of  der  rich  take 
for  yourselves.  Enough  dere  ish  —  ain't 
ut?  Ach  —  yes,  yes,"  he  concluded,  with 
an  unctuous  leer,  resuming  his  pipe. 

"  But,"  said  the  old  man,  w^hom  he  had 
interrupted,  "  you  can't  take  people's  prop- 
erty without  a  fight." 

"  Ya  w^ohl  "  —  said  the  stranger  —  "  den 
we  fights.  I  myself  will  lead  you.  Broders! 
der  worlt  moves.  I  am  of  dose  who  move 
ut." 

No  response  was  made  to  his  offer.  The 
men  looked  doubtfully  at  this  Moses,  so 
ready  to  lead  them  out  of  the  wilderness, 
and,  apparently  having  but  little  faith  in  his 
doctrines,  and  being  rather  unfavorably  im- 
pressed with  the  prophet  himself,  began  to 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  85 

slowly    move    off,    and    the    anarchist    was 
presently  left  alone. 

"  Wait,"  he  muttered  in  German,  "  I  make 
them  to  me  listen  by  and  by";  and  with  a 
somewhat  depressed  air  he  sought  the  near- 
est saloon. 

Immediately  after  receiving  authority 
from  the  directors,  the  superintendent  had 
sent  word  to  Darragh  that  he  should  be  glad 
to  talk  over  the  schedule  of  wagfes  with  him 
if  he  would  drop  around  to  the  mill  office. 
He  had  heard  considerable  concerning  this 
man,  and  believed  him  to  be  a  more  suita- 
ble negotiator  than  either  of  the  members 
of  the  Local  Board  of  the  '^  Associates  of 
Toil,"  whom  he  considered  much  inferior  to 
many  of  the  men  they  assumed  to  lead. 

His  message,  however,  had  aroused  their 
jealousy,  and  Darragh  was  with  difficulty 
able  to  persuade  them  to  allow  of  his  re- 


86        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

spending  to  it.  Darragh's  only  desire  was 
to  obtain  a  speedy  and  satisfactory  conclu- 
sion of  a  strike  that  he  himself  had  advised. 
He  had  no  sympathy  with  certain  radical 
views  held  by  these  others,  and  hoped  that, 
if  the  corporation  were  willing  to  substan- 
tially grant  the  advances  demanded,  he 
could  persuade  the  main  body  to  vote  a 
return  to  work  without  allowing  these  ideas 
to  influence  them. 

He  had  carried  his  point,  and  went 
directly  to  the  office  of  the  mill,  where  he 
had  agreed  to  meet  Mr.  Malcolm,  from  the 
meeting  that  he  had  addressed.  He  had 
been  pleased  that  no  difficulties  had  been 
suggested  there,  and  felt  now  that  it  only 
remained  for  him  to  arrange  matters  with 
the  superintendent,  which  he  felt  would  not 
be  difficult,  to  accomplish  aH  the  legitimate 
objects  of  the  strike  and  end  it  at  once. 

"  Mr.  Darragh,"  said  the  superintendent, 


Attempts  at  Adjustment.  87 


as  he  entered  the  office,  "  I  am  glad  to 
see  you  — and  you  alone.  From  what  I 
know  of  you,  I  believe  we  can  settle  this 
matter,  and  have  the  men  back  at  once. 
Provided,"  he  added,  "that  I  can  induce 
the  directors,  who  have  taken  this  matter 
in  hand  themselves,  to  waive  their  prin- 
ciples, as  some  seem  to  regard  the  matter, 
and  allow  a  settlement  with  your  organiza- 
tion." 

"*  I  hope  they  will  do  so,  Tm  sure,"  said 
Darragh,  cordially.  "  They  tell  me  —  those 
men  who  seem  to  know  —  that  if  your 
advice  had  been  followed  in  the  past,  there 
would  have  been  no  occasion  for  a  strike 

here." 

"  How  do  you  like  our  scale  of  wages?" 

he  added,  after  a  pause. 

a^Yell  —  but  sit  down,  sit  down,"  said 
Mr.  Malcolm.  "The  schedule?"  he  con- 
tinued ;  "  I  do  not  regard  it  as  unreasonable. 


88        The  Strike  in  the  B AliU. 

If  you'll  shade  down  the  back-boys  and 
helpers  —  make  that  half  a  dollar  a  week 
less,  I  should  say  —  and  if  3^ou  do  not 
insist  upon  your  peculiar  method  of  equal- 
izing those  machine-shop  wages,  I  have 
little  objection  —  by  the  way,"  he  said,  in- 
terrupting himself,  "  in  that  machine-shop 
matter,  I  might  as  well  say  that  I  am  en- 
tirely opposed  to  anything  that  tends,  even 
in  a  slight  degree,  as  here,  to  put  a  poor 
workman  on  a  par  with  a  better  man. 
Your  schedule  there  makes  very  few  dollars 
a  week  difference  to  us,  but  I  hate  the 
principle  of  it.  A  good  workman  ought  to 
have  exactly  the  difference  in  pay  over  the 
unskilful  and  lazy  one  as  the  ratio  of  his 
work  is  to  that  of  the  other,  in  quantity  and 
excellence.  Their  being  at  work  the  same 
number  of  hours  does  not  go  for  much  in  a 
machine-shop.  There  is  no  piece  work 
there,  you  know." 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  89 

Darragh  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  list 
that  he  was  holding  in  his  hand. 

"  This,"  he  said,  finally,  "  is  one  of  the 
ways  in  which  our  order  sometimes  works 
injustice.  I  am  only  reconciled  to  it  on  the 
principle  of  the  greatest  good  to  the  great- 
est number.  You  had  better  let  it  go,  or,  I 
fear,  we  shall  have  a  strong  kick  against 
our  settlement.  However  you,  or  I,  for  that 
matter,  may  feel  about  the  thing,  3'et,  if 
you'll  excuse  me,  it  is,  after  all,  their  own 
affair.  If  they  are  satisfied,  we  ought  to 
be.  The  gross  increase  is  slight,  as  you 
say.  Do  not,  then,  let  us  split  on  this,  as,  I 
confess,  I  dare  not  yield  the  point."  He  hes- 
itated a  moment.  "I  will,"  he  said,  "  agree 
on  what  you  suggest  about  the  boys,  and 
recommend  that  our  people  go  to  work  on 
this  basis.  I  do  not  understand  that  we  dis- 
agree about  the  piece  work  prices  for  the 
weavers  and  spinners.  Come,  what  do  you 
say,  Mr.  Malcolm?" 


90        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

The  superintendent  twisted  his  chair 
around,  and  thought  a  moment  or  two. 

"  Weiy  he  said,  slowly,  ''  if  the  men  are 
fools  enough  to  stand  it,  I  don't  know  that  I 
ought  to  fight  for  them  against  their  own 
order  —  but  there  is  one  thing  more.  Is 
there  to  be  any  trouble  about  the  ^  scabs,'  as 
your  brethren  pleasantly  style  them?  They 
comprise  nearly  three  hundred  men  and 
women,  and  we  do  not  propose  to  discharge 
one  of  them." 

Darragh  threw  his  head  back,  running  his 
fingers  through  his  thick,  black  hair,  and 
presently  answered  with  some  deliberation. 

"  With  regard,"  he  said,  "  to  the  proper 
attitude  of  our  order  on  this  question,  I  am 
very  clear.  Our  best  men  also,"  he  added, 
modestly,  "  have  given  the  subject  a  great 
deal  of  thought,  and  are  satisfied  that  noth- 
ing can  ultimately  work  us  more  injury  than 
to   assume  a  hostile    position  toward  those 


Attefupts  at  Adjustment.  91 

who  do  not  choose  to  join  our  ranks.  For 
a  time  some  may  be  intimidated  and  driven 
in,  as  it  were;  but  such  recruits  are  of  little 
value.  Too  many  are  already  in  the  organ- 
ization who  sadly  fail  in  understanding  its 
high  purposes,  and  seek  to  pervert  it  to  self- 
ish and  unlawful  ends,  without  adding  to 
it,  members  who  shall  sow  discord  to  be 
reaped  hereafter  —  " 

Mr.  Malcolm,  who  was  by  no  means 
enamoured  of  labor  associations  in  general, 
or  the  "Associates  of  Toil"  in  particular, 
had  been  listening  attentively  to  Darragh, 
and  here  interrupted  him,  speaking  in  his 
usual  slow  manner. 

"Your  order  has  in  itself  now,"  he  said, 
"the  seeds  of  dissolution.  It  cannot  last. 
None  of  you  with  any  self-respect  can  long 
endure  its  tyrannical  interference  in  your 
private  affairs.  The  thing  is  an  anomaly  in 
a  free  country  —  an  imperium  in  imperio  — 


92        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

that  can  have  but  a  brief  existence  here. 
It  is  bound  to  fall  to  pieces  of  its  own  un- 
wieldiness,  or  be  shivered  to  atoms  by  a 
storm  of  public  disapproval,  both  w^ithin 
and  without  its  ranks,  when  its  full  signifi- 
cance and  baleful  workings  shall  more  fully 
develop  themselves.  Excuse  my  warmth,  but 
I  think  3'our  order  is  doing  great  mischief." 
Mr.  Darragh  heard  him  with  admirable 
temper,  and  answered  quietly,  "Certainly: 
there  is  some  ground  for  your  strictures 
upon  us,  I  regret  to  say.  All  associations, 
of  this  or  any  other  character,  must  share 
in  the  imperfections  of  the  men  who  com- 
pose them.  No  movement  for  the  amelio- 
ration of  the  condition  of  a  larg^e  class  of 
the  people  can  be  conducted  without  more 
or  less  incidental  friction,  and  the  infliction 
of  temporary  hardship  upon  many,  perhaps. 
But,  Mr.  Malcolm,  unless  you  fully  grasp 
the    ultimate    objects    of    this    association. 


Attempts  at  Adjustment.  93 

which  are  to  elevate  the  laboring  man,  and 
broaden  and  ennoble  his  life,  these  inciden- 
tal objections  are  seen  by  you  out  of  all 
proportion,  for  you  do  not  understand  us 
at  all." 

"How?"  exclaimed  the  superintendent. 
"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  these  boycotts 
and  the  violence,  injustice,  and  cruelties  that 
your  people  are  constantly  practising  are  to 
be  looked  upon  as  mere  incidentals'  of 
some  far-seeing  policy  of  self-elevation  and 
improvement?  They  are  your  methods,  sir, 
not  incidentals;  and  no  such  methods  can 
lead  to  those  high  results." 

"Violence,"  returned  Darragh,  warmly, 
"  or  lawlessness  of  any  kind,  the  order 
strictly  forbids  and  seeks  to  restrain"  — 

"  I  don't  know  about  the  forbidding," 
interrupted  Malcolm,  "  but  I  do  know  about 
the  not  restraining:," 

"  We  do  our  best,  sir,"  said  Darragh. 


94        The  Strike  in  the  B ATilL 

"Well,"  said  Malcolm,  "your  'best'  has 
been  very  bad  indeed,  so  far.  You  seem  to 
have  discipline  enough  to  successfully  order 
free  citizens  to  stop  work,  but  you  are  not 
able  to  make  them  behave  themselves  like 
men  —  or  you  don't  wish  to  —  one  of  the 
two." 

"  I  think  you  do  us  injustice,  sir,"  said 
Darragh.  "  Our  principles  are  opposed  to 
all  illegal  methods.  Boycotts  are  only  per- 
mitted in  extreme  cases.  Strikes  we  order, 
it  is  true,  but  always  prefer  to  settle  matters 
without  them.  Do  you  not  see,  Mr.  Mal- 
colm, that  to  lift  the  laboring  man,  to  im- 
prove him  intellectually  and  morally,  we 
must  improve  his  material  environment; 
help  him  to  the  getting  of  larger  wages, 
and  more  leisure  for  self-improvement. 
But  it  is  difficult,  I  presume,  for  a  capitalist 
to  feel  as  I  do  about  this." 

"  Mr.  Darragh,"  replied  the  superintend- 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  95 


ent,  "  I  am  now,  to  a  certain  extent,  a  cap- 
italist. But  I  have  been  a  day  laborer,  and 
do  not  forget  it.  My  sympathies  are  all 
your  way,  whatever  you  may  think  about  it. 
But  your  claim  is  an  impossible  one.  Many 
desirable  things  are  denied  in  this  life  to 
most  of  us;  and  before  you  bind  together  a 
number  of  hundred  thousand  men,  with  this 
ultimate  purpose,  and  through  such  asso- 
ciation bring  upon  many  of  them  hardship, 
suffering,  and  disappointment,  is  it  not  your 
duty  to  be  tolerably  sure  that  the  economic 
conditions  of  the  country — of  the  civil- 
ized world,  indeed  —  will  admit  of  these 
radical  changes?  You  cannot  do  these 
things  by  edict,  beneficial  as  they  may 
be.  The  laws  of  supply  and  demand  are 
inexorable,  and  the  minute  you  begin  to 
force  a  change  in  them  by  law,  or  by  a 
movement  like  yours,  that  minute  the  quick 
destruction  of   many   industrial    enterprises 


96         The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

has  begun.  What  the  end  shall  be,  if 
you  persist,  you  can  foresee  as  well  as  I. 
Where  will  be  the  advantage  to  a  man  of 
large  wages,  when  he  can  find  no  employ- 
ment; and  will  your  people  desire  an  eight- 
hour  rule,  when  every  hour  of  the  day  will 
be  at  their  disposal  for  want  of  occupation? 
Look  ahead,  man,  look  ahead." 

"  The  question  is  not  altogether  free  from 
difficulties,  I  am  aware,"  said  Darragh. 
"  But  we  must  strive  for  the  best.  We 
can  but  try,  and  if  we  fail  it  will  not  have 
been  our  fault." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Darragh,  if  you,  the  men  of 
intelligence,  go  ahead  blindly,  and  mislead 
a  host  of  people  with  sloppy  rhetoric  and 
vain  hopes,  and  leave  them  w^orse  off  than 
they  were  before,  it  will  be  your  fault. 
You  ought  to  be  fairly  sure  of  your  ground. 
You  have  no  right  to  make  experiments 
that  involve  so  much  possible  injury." 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  97 


Darragh  colored,  and  his  eye  flashed. 
He  arose  from  his  chair  and  walked  a  mo- 
ment up  and  down  the  room.  Then,  con- 
trolling his  feeling,  he  said,  almost  pleas- 
antly: "By  the  present  strike,  at  least,  Mr. 
Malcolm,  we  are  likely  to  have  the  men 
back  at  work  in  a  few  days,  with  a  material 
gain,  if  we  agree,  as  I  suppose  we  shall, 
when  our  discussion  is  over." 

"Yes,"  said  the  superintendent,  "we  shall 
agree  about  the  wages.  But  my  directors 
must  endorse  my  action,  and  your  people,  I 
take  it,  must  back  up  your  very  sensible 
notions  about  the  non-union  men.  When 
this  has  been  done,  you  can  indeed  con- 
gratulate yourself  upon  one  of  the  very  few 
successful  experiments  of  your  order  in 
righting  a  wrong." 

"  You  admit  that  here  was  a  wrong  for 
us  to  right?  " 

"Yes,   as  prices  go  now;  you  are  quite 


98        The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

welcome  to  that  admission.  But  we  have 
gone  to  our  limit.  If  your  folks  strike 
again,  as  they  logically  must,  some  time,  in 
order  to  make  progress  toward  the  goal  you 
point  them  to,  they  cannot  be  successful. 
We  can  pay  no  more  and  live.  Indeed,  it 
is  a  problem  as  to  how  long  we  can  pay 
this.  Your  strikes  have  forced  a  few  men, 
here  and  there,  to  pay  more  than  they  can 
afford;  but  they  cannot  hold  on  very  long. 
Most  of  those  strikes  have  failed,  however. 
And  all  fail  when,  as  in  the  majority  of 
cases,  they  hold  out  on  some  absurd  point 
outside  of  the  question  of  wages  or  hours." 

'''Those  strikes  ought  to  fail,"  said  Dar- 
ragh. 

Mr.  Malcolm  rose  from  his  chair.  "  We 
have  had  a  long  discussion,  Mr.  Darragh," 
he  said.  "  I  respect  the  desire  you  have  to 
benefit  the  people,  but  regard  your  hopes 
of  what  you   can  do   in   this   manner  as  in 


Aitejupts  at  Adjusttnent.  99 


the  highest  degree  chimerical.  Meanwhile, 
I  cannot  help  adding  that,  while  your  order 
may  gain  an  incidental  advantage,  now  and 
then,  the  mischief  you  are  working  and 
will  work  to  your  own  people,  before  this 
organization  goes  to  pieces,  is  incalculable. 
In  your  experimental  striving  for  the  best, 
as  370U  call  it,  you  are  marking  off  into  a 
distinct  and  inferior  class  a  large  body  of 
the  citizens  of  a  free  country,  to  which  I 
came,  and  in  which  I  had  a  chance  to 
better  myself,  because  there  were  no 
classes.  You  are  destroying  their  inde- 
pendence and  crushing  out  their  individ- 
uality. The  ^Associate  of  Toil '  can  only 
stand  on  a  dead  level  with  his  fellows, 
though  it  may  be  he  is  their  superior  in 
brains  and  pluck.  From  a  free  and  un- 
trammelled citizen  you  are  transforming 
him  into  a  mere  unit  of  labor.  All  this 
in  addition  to  the  untold  misery  and  trouble 


loo      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 


that  these  movements  entail  to  him  and 
those  dependent  upon  him." 

"You  do  not  justly  estimate  us,"  said 
Darragh.  "  We  must  be  judged  by  results. 
Have  not  the  trades-unions  benefited  the 
English  workman?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Malcolm,  "though  the 
extension  of  the  suffrage  there  has  done  far 
more.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  3^our 
organization  is  to  do  good  here.  The  con- 
ditions are  essentially  different.  Because 
the  Russian  peasants  need  reforms,  does 
that  justify  the  mountaineer  of  Switzerland 
in  raising  the  devil  with  his  free  institu- 
tions? Associations  like  the  Carbonari,  or 
the  Vehmgericht  of  the  middle  ages,  may 
have  served  some  good  purpose,  in  their 
villanous  way;  but  w^hat  do  we  want  of 
them  here?  You  cannot  generalize  about 
these  things.  What  may  be  beneficial  in 
one  period,  or  in  one  country,  becomes  an 


Attempts  at  Adjustment.  loi 

absurdity  and  a  menace  to  society  in  an- 
other. In  the  broad  light  of  American 
freedom  your  order  cannot  endure,  but  will 
die  like  its  wretched  prototype,  the  Molly 
McGuires  of  Pennsylvania." 

"  Well,"  said  Darragh,  "  that  very  light 
must  act  as  a  check,  and  will  prevent  what 
you  seem  to  fear.  We  can  restrain  inju- 
dicious leaders,  for  the  men  have  too  much 
sense  to  follow  them;  neither  can  they  go 
in  for  this  nonsense  about  scabs  and  boy- 
cotting. We  mean  to  be  no  check  upon 
individual  enterprise,  and  only  wish  to  ele- 
vate all  together,  without  menace  to  liberty 
or  disobedience  to  the  laws  of  the  land.  If 
the  order  can  be  conducted  as  its  best 
friends  w^ish,  I  believe  —  yes,  I  fervently 
pray  —  that  it  will  yet  effect  much  good." 
He  paused  a  moment,  and  his  face  showed 
some  emotion.  Presently  he  added  :  "  I 
shall    report    to    our    meeting     to-morrow 


I02       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

night.  I  have  confidence  in  our  people,  and 
believe  they  will  vote  to  accept  our  settle- 
ment and  go  back  to  work,  if  your  directors 
allow  of  it." 

"  If  I  can  induce  them,"  said  Malcolm, 
"  they  will.  Well,  good-night  to  you,"  he 
added,  shaking  Darragh  heartily  by  the 
hand  as  he  started  to  go.  "  If  such  men  as 
you  could  run  your  order,  I  doubt  if  it 
would  do  much  harm.  But  you  can't  do 
it,  Mr.  Darragh.  There  are  too  many  fel- 
lows who  are  getting  a  good  living  out  of 
this  agitation  to  allow  disinterested  men  the 
control." 

•  "  There,  again,  I  think  you  are  wrong, 
sir,"  said  Darragh,  disregarding  the  per- 
sonal compliment.  "  You  will  believe  little 
good  of  us,  I  see.  Well,  good-night.  Our 
trouble,  at  any  rate,  will   soon  be  ended." 

The    directors    met    again    in    F on 

the  following   day,  and  the  superintendent 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  103 

strongly  urged  that  the  provisional  arrange- 
ment made  by  him  with  Darragh  be  rati- 
fied, and  the  strike  ended.  In  the  discus- 
sion that  followed,  the  president  proved  to 
be  his  steady  ally,  and,  to  Alston's  great 
delight,  displayed  far  more  than  his  usual 
energy  in  holding  the  opposition  to  the 
question,  and  stripping  it  of  rhetoric  and 
buncombe. 

The  treasurer,  Mr.  Hartwell,  had  hith- 
erto rather  run  the  directors'  meetings,  and 
prided  himself  upon  the  aplomb  with  which 
he  could  lay  down  his  views.  He  was  con- 
siderably startled,  therefore,  on  this  occa- 
sion, at  being  more  than  once  interrupted 
by  Mr.  Phillips  in  his  remarks,  and  when 
that  gentleman  finally  struck  in  on  one  of 
his  best  periods  with  the  observation  that 
''  while  this  was  all  very  interesting  —  very 
—  yet  it  wasn't  business  —  no  dividends  in 
it  that  he  could  see,"  Mr.  Hartwell  stam- 


I04      The  Strike  in  the  B AfilL 


mered,  lost  his  grip,  and  sat  down  in  speech- 
less extinguishment. 

The  influence,  never  before  exerted,  of  a 
man  controlling  as  much  stock  as  the  presi- 
dent, was,  as  it  proved,  salutary,  and  by  a 
close  vote  both  the  questions  —  of  the  man- 
ner of  adjustment  and  the  schedule  of  wages 
submitted  —  were  settled,  and  the  superin- 
tendent was  directed  to  start  the  mill  at 
once. 

Some  suoforestion  bein^:  made  as  to  the 
non-union  workmen,  the  superintendent  was 
strictly  enjoined  from  discharging  or  refus- 
ing to  accept  the  services  of  any  such  oper- 
atives, and  it  was  ordered  that  they  should 
be  in  all  respects  on  the  same  footing  as  the 
others.  This  just  action,  it  is  needless  to 
say,  was  unanimously  agreed  to. 

The  superintendent  at  once  sent  word 
to  Mr.  Darragh  of  the  favorable  action  of 
the   directors,  and   busied   himself  in  prep- 


Attempts  at  Adjtistment,  105 

aration  for  the  resumption  of  work  on  the 
following  day. 

At  a  late  hour  that  evening  Mr.  Malcolm 
was  sitting  at  home.  His  mind  was  relieved 
of  a  heavy  load,  as  he  now  saw  (as  he  be- 
lieved) the  end  of  this  difficulty.  As  he 
had  said  to  Darragh,  his  sympathies  were 
strongly  with  the  laboring  man  when  he 
saw  him  threatened  with  any  real  trouble; 
and  this  feeling  was  none  the  less  genuine 
because  unmixed  with  an}'  maudlin  senti- 
mentality as  to  his  general  condition.  He 
had  been  for  the  greater  part  of  his  own 
life  a  wage-earner,  and  had  known  the  hap- 
piness and  content  that  are  quite  compatible 
with  that  condition  of  life. 

He  knew,  further,  from  his  own  experi- 
ence and  that  of  others,  that  wealth  and 
happiness  were  by  no  means  synonymous 
terms,  and  that  all  men  were  almost  equally 
burdened  with  unhappiness,  in  various  forms. 


io6      The  Strike  in  the  B AlilL 

Nevertheless,  he  could  not  fail  to  see  that 
the  men  had  In  this  case  stood  out  against 
an  injustice,  and  felt  glad  that  it  was  at  last 
remedied,  and  that  the  miseries  to  them  of 
a  prolonged  strike,  of  which  he  had  had 
some  experience  himself  in  England  and 
here,  were  averted. 

There  were  employed  in  the   B Mill 

a  few  French  Canadians,  and  Mr.  Malcolm, 
who  wished  to  be  able  to  communicate 
directly  with  all  those  in  his  employ,  had 
been  for  some  time  spending  much  of  his 
evenings  in  the  study  of  the  French  lan- 
ofuasre.  Thouo^h  an  omnivorous  reader  and 
a  man  of  wide  information,  he  found  that 
his  fifty-odd  years  were  not  conducive  to  an 
easy  acquirement  of  a  new  language.  But 
he  was  a  man  of  inflexible  will,  and,  having 
determined  to  learn  it,  he  persevered. 

On  the  evening  in  question  he  had  found 
himself   unusually    stupid,    and    was    rather 


Attempts  at  Adjustment.  107 

sleepily  sharing  the  Gallic  grammarian's 
curiosity  as  to  whether  the  urbane  black- 
smith had  possessed  himself  of  the  silk 
umbrella  of  the  skilful  tinman,  and  other 
matters  of  like  interest  in  well  expressed 
French,  when  he  was  aroused  by  the  house- 
bell  and  a  message  that  somebody  wished 
to  see  him.  Going  into  the  next  room,  he 
found  Darragh  and  two  other  men,  whom 
he  recognized  as  Murphy  and  Bradford, 
members  of  the  local  committee  of  the 
"Associates  of  Toil." 

"I  suppose  everything  is  all  right?"  he 
said,  as  he  seated  his  visitors  in  his  sitting- 
room.  "  I  sent  around  word  to  you,"  he 
added,  addressing  Mr.  Darragh,  "  that  the 
directors  had  agreed,  and  that  the  mill 
would  open  to-morrow  morning." 

Darragh  made  no  reply,  and  the  superin- 
tendent observed  that  his  expression  was 
troubled  and  sorrowful. 


io8      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

The  man  Murphy  spoke  :  "  We're  not 
satisfied,"  he  said,  '''  with  the  way  Mr.  Dar- 
rao:h  has  undertaken  to  arran^re  matters. 
We  don't  propose  to  go  to  work  wid  the 
scabs  again.  If  they  take  their  old  places, 
we  don't  want  ours.  We'll  eno^aiie  to  fill 
their  places  wid  good  hands  in  a  few  days. 
We're  agreeable  to  the  wages  you've  set- 
tled, and  will  come  into  the  mill  to-morrow 
without  those  others." 

The  superintendent's  disappointment  was 
almost  unbearable.  He  had  remained  stand- 
ing, and  now  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the 
room;  then  he  stopped  in  front  of  Murphy 
and  regarded  him  intently. 

"What,"  he  said,  quietly,  and  restraining 
his  strong  feeling,  "  is  to  become  of  these 
people  whom  you  propose  that  we  should 
deprive  of  work  in  this  way?" 

"  We  don't  care  a  damn  what  becomes 
of    them,"    returned    Murphy,    impudently. 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  109 

"  They'd  be  all  right  if  they'd  join  us.  If 
they  won't,  it's  their  hunt,  not  ours,  what 
becomes  of  them." 

"  Why,"  said  the  superintendent,  ''  are 
you  opposed  to  their  working?  You  have 
your  work,  why  shouldn't  they  have  theirs. 
They  do  you  no  harm." 

"  They  do  us  harm,"  struck  in  Bradford; 
"  they  do  us  harm  because  they  won't  come 
with  us.  Why,  they  would  have  been  at 
work  all  along  if  you'd  let  them,  in  spite  of 
our  strike.  It's  against  the  principles  of  the 
order  of  the  '  Associates  of  Toil '  to  work 
along  with  scabs  "  — 

Darragh  here  interrupted  the  speaker 
with  some  vehemence.  "You  are  mis- 
taken, as  I  have  repeatedly  said  to  you. 
This  matter  involves  no  principle  whatever. 
You  are  all  wrong  about  it.  Mr.  Malcolm," 
he  said,  turning  to  the  superintendent,  "  we 
are  just  from  the  meeting  at  the  hall  that  I 


no      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

had  supposed  would  have  ratified  our  agree- 
ment. To  my  great  surprise,  and  against 
my  earnest  advice,  the  men,  by  a  decided 
vote,  determined  not  to  return  to  work  un- 
less 3'ou  discharged  those  who  are  not  mem- 
bers of  the  order.  I  admit  frankly  that  it  is 
a  great  mistake,  but  we  can  supply  their 
places,  and,  in  consideration  of  the  impor- 
tant interests  you  represent,  and  of  the  great 
number  of  poor  men,  women,  and  children 
that  need  this  work,  I  hope  you  can  see 
your  way  to  open  the  mill  to  us  on  these 
terms." 

The  superintendent  did  not  answer  at 
once. 

"  At  my  urgent  solicitation,"  he  finall}^ 
said,  "  the  company  allowed  me  to  negoti- 
ate with  the  'Associates  of  Toil  '  instead  of 
individuals.  We  have  substantially  agreed 
to  3^our  demands  for  increased  wages.  My 
instructions,  however,  forbid  any  discrimi- 


Att erupts  at  Adjustment,  1 1 1 

nation  as  to  wages  or  employment  between 
you  and  these  others." 

"  Is  this  not  discretionary  with  you,  then  ?" 
said  Darragh.  ' 

"  It  is  not,"  replied  the  superintendent; 
"  and,  if  it  were,  you  know  my  views.  And, 
further,"  he  added,  in  louder  tones,  "  if  I 
had  been  ordered  to  discharge  them  — 
these  ^  scabs,' as  you  call  them  —  I  should 
have  resigned  my  position  before  I  would 
have  done  it — I  would  cut  off  this  hand," 
he  said,  stretching  it  toward  them,  "  and 
throw  it  in  the  fire,  before  I  would  do 
that  wicked  thing!  —  Do  you  understand 
me  now?  The  mill  will  open  to-morrow," 
he  continued,  "  and  those  men  who  desire 
work  can  have  it  on  the  new  scale  of  wages. 
If  your  people  don't  want  it,  by  Heaven!  I 
will  fill  up  with  hands  from  elsewhere. 
Good-evening." 

"  Good-night  to   ye,  sir,"    said    Murphy, 


112       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

rising.  "  But  I  warn  you  to  bring  no  more 
scabs  to  this  town  —  that's  all,  sir." 

"Is  this  final,  Mr.  Malcolm.^"  said 
Darragh. 

"Yes,  sir  —  it  is,"  returned  the  superin- 
tendent; and,  taking  up  his  hat,  Darragh 
followed  the   others  from  the  room. 

Darragh  was  a  thoroughly  good  man. 
He  was  a  mechanical  engineer  by  trade, 
of  stronof  inventive  turn  of  mind.  Under 
many  disadvantages  he  had  been  studious, 
and  was  exceedingly  well  read  and  intelli- 
gent. Believing  ardently  in  the  dignity  of 
labor,  and  keenly  alive  to  the  limitations 
and  hardships  of  many  laboring  men,  he 
had  gone  into  this  movement  with  the  pur- 
est and  most  disinterested  motives,  and  had 
been  conspicuous  in  the  early  struggles  of 
the  order  for  his  faith  in  what  he  deemed 
its  great  mission:  he  had  devoted  much 
time  and  all  his  savings  to   its  spread.     As 


Attempts  at  Adjustment,  113 

it  became  a  power,  he  had  more  than  once 
had  occasion  to  deplore  the  difference  be- 
tween its  theoretical  purposes  and  its  prac- 
tical working.  He  had  begun  to  fear  that 
it  might  fail  of  its  real  objects,  and  become 
only  a  vehicle  for  the  uses  of  designing 
men,  and  incidentally  the  cause  of  much 
suffering  and  trouble  that  might  be  all  in 
vain. 

Sincere  with  himself,  though  as  yet  un- 
willing to  admit  it  to  others,  he  trembled 
for  the  future  of  this  noble  fabric,  as  he  had 
thought  it,  that  he  had  labored  to  rear,  and 
was  saddened  as  he  saw  what  he  had 
thought  might  have  brought  good  to  many, 
turning  into  an  instrument  of  evil.     He  had 

hoped  much  from  this  strike  in  F and 

its  anticipated  pleasant  ending.  And  now, 
in  spite  of  his  efforts,  the  thing  was  all 
going  wrong.  He  looked  forward  to  the 
hunger     and     suffering,     the     drunkenness 


114      ^'^^^  Strike  in  the  B ATill. 

and  possible  violence  that  now  impended, 
and,  as  he  parted  from  the  two  men,  to 
whose  influence  he  largely  attributed  his 
failure,  he  cursed  them  in  his  heart.  Walk- 
ing home  alone,  under  the  October  moon, 
the  question  of  his  own  responsibility  for 
these  things  arose  strongly  in  his  mind. 
Not  for  the  first  time,  he  asked  himself 
whether  he  was  blameless  —  whether,  in 
his  blind  pursuit  of  the  ignis  fatuus  of  an  ill 
defined  and  fanciful  Utopia  for  the  labor- 
ing man,  he  was  not  really  working  him 
great  evil.  The  doubt  was  not  a  pleasant 
one,  but  it  would  not  down.  Like  many 
another,  he  was  tasting  the  bitterness  of  a 
mental  awakening,  in  which  he  saw  the 
misdirection  and  positive  wrong  of  all  his 
well  meant  efforts  and  sacrifices. 


CHAPTER   III. 

CONTINUANCE    OF    THE    STRIKE. 

T^HE  superintendent,  as  good  as  his 
•^  word,  opened  the  sluice-gates  and 
rang  the  Bell  of  the  mill  on  the  following 
morning,  at  the  usual  hour.  The  operatives 
turned  out  in  full  force  on  the  streets  at  the 
familiar  summons,  and  a  few  turned  into  the 
mill  yard  and  so  into  the  mill,  each  going  to 
his  or  her  accustomed  place.  But  when 
the  quarter  of  an  hour  was  up,  and  the  belts 
should  have  been  attached  to  the  shafts  and 
the  machinery  started,  the  great  rooms  still 
were  almost  empty.  Scattered  about,  here 
and  there,  stood  a  few  non-union  work- 
people, numbering,  in  all  the  departments, 
perhaps  three  hundred,  while  below  in  the 
"5 


ii6      The  SU'ike  in  the  B Mill, 

street,  outside  of  the  gates  and  lining  the 
wall  of  the  flume,  stood  fifteen  hundred  or 
more,  idly  watching  the  mill  or  pointing 
derisively  to  the  occasional  faces  seen  in  the 
windows. 

A  few  policemen  appeared  and  stood 
about  by  the  mill  gates,  or  sauntered 
through  the  crowd.  But  everything  was, 
on  this  morning,  entirely  quiet,  and  there 
was  no  occasion  for  their  services. 

Those  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd 
stood  quietly  smoking  their  pipes  and  chat- 
ting together,  while  those  nearer  the  gates 
had  closely  watched  the  few  whom  they 
had  suffered  to  enter  on  this  occasion  with- 
out comment  or  outcry.  But  when  these 
had  all  passed,  their  attention  seemed  still 
centred  upon  the  same  spot,  and  they 
watched  the  gate  and  each  other  with  looks 
of  uncertain  expectancy,  as  if  they  feared 
—  no    doubt    some    hoped  —  that   a   break 


Continuance  of  the  Strike.  117 

might  be  made  in  that  direction  from 
among  themselves. 

When  men  are  doubtful  of  their  ground, 
and  more  than  half  believe  that  they  are  in 
the  wrong,  a  sudden  change  of  purpose  and 
movement  on  the  part  of  a  few,  often  draws 
after  them  the  whole  number.  There  is 
little  doubt  that,  on  this  occasion,  had  any 
considerable  number  of  the  well  known 
"Associates  of  Toil,"  who  stood  near  the 
gate,  made  up  their  minds  to  defy  the 
vote  of  the  night  before  and  gone  in,  they 
would  have  been  followed  by  the  greater 
number  of  those  watching  them,  and  the 
strike  would  have  ended  then  and  there. 
Many,  in  their  hearts,  wished  that  this  might 
be,  but  no  man  made  the  move.  Each 
waited  for  his  neighbor  to  take  the  initia- 
tive, and  the  opportunity  passed. 

Mr.  Malcolm,  who  had  been  in  the  mill 
consulting  with  the  foremen  as  to  the  appli- 


ii8      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill 

cation  of  power  in  certain  places,  where  a 
few  looms  and  other  machinery  might  be 
started  with  the  small  force  present,  now 
came  down  the  steps  of  the  office  and  ap- 
proached the  gate.  He  stepped  through, 
and  was  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  raising  his  voice  so  that 
he  could  be  heard  by  all  about  him,  "  are 
you  not  going  to  work  this  morning,  on  the 
new  schedule  of  wages?  The  mill  is  open 
to  you  all." 

Those  about  him  made  no  reply.  Some 
whistled  a  little,  others  turned  away  with 
their  hands  in  their  pockets.  The  superin- 
tendent turned  to  a  quiet-looking  man  of 
middle  age,  whom  he  recognized.  "  Mc- 
Donald," he  said,  "  why  don't  you  come  in, 
man,  and  go  to  work?  we  are  going  to  pay 
you  what  you  asked." 

The  man  looked  on  the  ground  sheep- 
ishly  an   instant;    then,  stiffening    up,  said. 


Contifitcance  of  the  Strike,         119 

"  We  can't  work  with  the  scabs,  sir.  You 
discharge  them  as  have  just  gone  in  there, 
and  we'll  come  fast  enough." 

"  That's  great  nonsense,  Mac,"  said  Mal- 
colm, "  and  you  all  know  it." 

He  still  spoke  loudly,  that  all  might  hear: 
"  I  told  your  folks  so  last  night.  We  can't 
refuse  to  employ  these  people;  they've 
worked  for  us  as  long  as  any  of  you,  and 
you  have  all  worked  alongside  of  them. 
Come,  come  —  listen  to  reason,"  he  added, 
"  and  don't  injure  yourselves  for  nothing. 
We  prefer  our  old  hands  to  new  ones. 
We  feel  all  right  about  the  strike  and  want 
you  back." 

The  men  about  him  listened  eagerly,  as 
those  who  hear  something  they  believe  to 
be  true  and  yet  fear  to  act  upon. 

At  this  moment  the  executive  committee- 
man. Murphy,  pushed  through  the  crowd 
and  exclaimed,  "  You're  keeping  us  all  out 


I20      The  Strike  in  the  B JMilL 

of  work  for  the  sake  of  a  few  scabs,  Mr. 
Malcolm!" 

Mr.  Marcolm  turned  sharply  and  con- 
fronted him.  Though  habitually  a  man  of 
slow  speech,  he  now  spoke  quickly  enough. 

"  I  am  talking  to  your  betters,  sir,"  he 
said,  sternly.  "  I  have  had  enough  of  3'ou 
leaders,  as  3'ou  call  yourselves."  He  turned 
his  back  on  Murphy,  who  was  inclined  to 
reply,  but  was  checked  by  those  about  him, 
who  told  him  that  they  wanted  to  hear  what 
Malcolm  had  to  say.  "  Why,"  continued 
Mr.  Malcolm  to  the  men,  "  do  you  allow 
such  fellows  to  lead  you  around  by  the 
nose?  Vance,"  he  called  to  our  old  ac- 
quaintance, who  stood  back  a  little,  and  did 
not  seem  desirous  of  catching  his  eye: 
^^  Vance,  you  are  a  sensible  fellow;  can't 
you  persuade  3^our  friends  to  listen  to 
reason ! " 

''  Well,    I    see   it's  of   no  use,"  he   con- 


Cofitinuance  of  the  St  rile  e,         121 

tinued,  after  a  pause,  during  which  no  one 
made  any  reply.  "  It  begins  to  look  as 
though  we  should  have  to  get  gther  help, 
though  we  don't  wish  to  do  it.  We  had 
much  rather  have  yottP  He  waited  a  mo- 
ment looking  into  the  men's  faces  with  his 
strong  and  kindly  gaze.  Then  he  turned 
to  a  policeman.  "  Clear  the  way  and  keep 
the  gate  open,"  he  said,  shortly,  and  walked 
toward  the  office.  As  he  turned  his  back, 
he  heard  Murphy's  voice  call  out,  "  Three 
groans  for  the  superintendent!"  and  a 
storm  of  groans  and  hisses  went  up,  mainly 
from  the  farther  part  of  the  crowd,  among 
those  who  had  not  heard  what  he  had 
just  been  saying.  Mr.  Malcolm  turned 
and  stood  quietly  facing  the  crowd  a  mo- 
ment, while  the  noise  lasted,  and  he  noticed 
that  from  the  men  to  whom  he  had  been 
speaking  no  sound  arose,  except  that  one 
or  two  exclaimed,  "shut  up" — "stop  that 


122       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

damned  noise!"  He  recoo^nized  their 
friendly  interference  with  a  little  smile,  and, 
turning  again,  went  into  the  office. 

The  crowd  hung  about  a  while;  then  it 
gradually  thinned  out,  and  filtered  slowly 
away  through  the  narrow  streets  in  the 
vicinity. 

But  the  place  remained,  throughout  the 
continuance  of  the  strike,  a  favorite  rendez- 
vous for  the  more  turbulent,  who  could 
here  collectively  manifest  their  feelings  in 
the  hearing  of  those  with  whom  they  had 
so  unwisely  chosen  to  remain  at  issue.  As 
the  non-union  men  continued  to  enter  the 
mill,  and  their  numbers  subsequently  grew 
larger,  they  were  here  nearly  sure  each  day 
of  considerable  attention  from  the  strikers, 
which  often  assumed  a  character  that  ren- 
dered police  protection  necessary,  as  will 
be  seen. 

Vance  had  felt  very  uncomfortable  when 


Continuance  of  the  Strike,  123 

he  found  himself  addressed  by  Mr.  Mal- 
colm, whom  he  respected  and  liked,  and  he 
was  one  of  the  first  to  leave  the  p.lace  after 
the  superintendent  had  returned  to  the 
office.  He  had  not  been  at  the  meeting  of 
the  "  Associates  of  Toil  "  on  the  preceding 
evening,  and,  when  he  received  word  that 
the  strike  was  to  continue  unless  the  non- 
union men  should  be  refused  employment, 
he  had  not  been  altogether  satisfied.  At 
that  time  he  did  not,  it  is  true,  realize  the 
gravity  of  the  error,  or  the  improbability  of 
the  corporation  yielding  to  such  a  demand, 
though  he  realized  its  injustice;  nor  did  he 
have  any  purpose  of  resisting  the  mandate 
of  the  order.  But  he  was  an  intelligent 
man,  and  it  appeared  to  him  that  a  mistake 
had  been  made,  and,  for  the  first  time,  he 
felt  some  uneasiness  as  to  the  result. 

At  breakfast    on   this  morning,   his  wife, 
who,  with  a   woman's  quick  intuition,  saw 


124      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

more  clearly  than  himself  how  matters 
were  tending,  urged  him  to  throw  up  his 
membership  in  the  order,  and  go  back  to 
work.  "  The}^  can't  do  more  than  call  you 
a  'scab,'  John,"  she  said,  "and  3'ou'll  be 
doing  right  and  ought  not  to  care." 

"Well,"  he  replied,  "I  don't  like  the 
name,  that's  a  fact." 

"  Here's  the  mill,"  .  continued  his  wife, 
"  co.me  round  and  given  the  advance  of 
wages  that  was  asked,  right  off,  and  now 
these  '  Associates '  won't  take  it  because 
they  won't  discharge  these  folks  that  you've 
always  worked  with,  and  who  have  got  to 
get  a  living  as  well  as  you.  You  yourself, 
John,  struck  in  the  first  place  to  help  some 
one  else,  not  yourself;  and  now  you  must 
keep  on  striking  to  hurt  some  one  else.  It's 
all  wrong,  the  whole  of  it;  that's  what  I  say." 

"  You  and  Darragh  seem  to  agree  about 
this,  Mary." 


Continuance  of  the  Strike,  125 


"He  thinks  so  too,  does  he ?^' she  inquired. 
"  Yes,"  he  answered.     "  They  say  he  put 
it  to  them  very  strong   last   night.     I  wish 
I'd  been  there." 

"Now  I'm  sure  Fm  right,"  continued 
Mrs.  Vance.  "  Why  douH  you  leave  them, 
John?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Mary,"  he  said,  "  that  won't  do. 
The  mill  can't  like  it,  but  they'll  have  to 
bounce  the  '  scabs,'  I  suppose." 

"Yes  —  and  that  would  be  a  nice  thing 
for  them  to  do,"  returned  his  wife,  sar- 
castically. "John,"  she  added,  solemnly, 
"  they'll  never  do  it  in  this  world,  never. 
You  mark  my  words." 

"  It  would  be  rather  hard  on  them,"  he 
said,  thoughtfully;  "and  some  of  them 
pretty  good  folks,  too.  Take  those  Cot- 
tings  and  Westfalls,  now;  I'd  hate  to  see 
them  hurt.  But  they  can  get  work  some- 
where else,  I  suppose." 


126      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

Mrs.  Vance  did  not  reply  at  once,  but 
she  looked  very  grave  as  she  stirred  her 
cup  and  gave  the  children  some  more  bread 
and  butter.  She  had  been  brought  up  on  a 
comfortable  New  England  farm,  had  re- 
ceived a  fair  education,  and  was  intending 
to  undertake  the  district  school  for  the 
winter  term,  when  handsome  John  Vance 
came  along  and  captivated  her  by  his 
beauty  and  easy  good-humor.  His  supe- 
rior, perhaps,  in  some  respects,  her  love  for 
him  was  unbounded;  and  he  had  deserved 
it,  for  he  was  a  good  husband  and  a  thor- 
ough and  steady  workman. 

With  the  ingrained  ideas  of  the  respecta- 
bility of  work  natural  to  a  farmer's  daughter, 
she  felt  no  repugnance  to  his  occupation, 
which  was  that  of  a  foreman  in  the  machine- 
shop,  where  his  skill  and  industry  earned 
him  laro^e  washes.  But  she  had  never  be- 
come  accustomed  to  the  surroundino^s  of  a 


Continuance  of  the  Strike,         127 

factory  village,  nor  had  been  able  to  find 
much  in  common  with  the  companions  of 
his  labor.  She  had  been  very  inquisitive 
reo^ardinor  the  order  of  the  "  Associates  of 
Toil  "  when  her  husband  joined  it,  —  more, 
indeed,  because  he  was  urged  to  do  so, 
than  from  any  special  belief  in  its  value. 

Mrs.  Vance's  strong  American  common- 
sense  had  instinctively  revolted  from  what 
she  could  see  bore  a  foreign  stamp,  and 
was,  to  her  mind,  uncongenial  to  the  soil, 
and  opposed  to  the  spirit  of  the  free  citizens 
among  whom  she  had  been  reared.  She 
now  began  to  discern  its  power  to  work 
injustice. 

"John,"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  "it's  a 
sin.  How  would  you  like  to  be  thrown  out 
of  work  because  you  didn't  choose  to  join 
something:  or  other?" 

"  I  about  agree  with  you  and  Darragh, 
Mary,"  he  said;  "but  the  poor  scabs  have 


128      The  Strike  in  the  B AlilL 

got  to  go,  Fm  afraid,  in  spite  of  anything  I 
can  do,  and  I  had  better  stand  by  the  order 
now  and  see  how  things  come  out.  If  I 
turned  scab,  Fd  have  to  be  discharged  with 
the  rest,  directly;  so  where's  the  use." 

Mrs.  Vance  saw  that  her  husband's  mind 
was  made  up  for  the  present,  and  forbore  to 
urge  him  farther. 

"  There  is  the  bell,"  he  said  in  a  moment, 
getting  up  from  the  table.  "  I  guess  FU  go 
over  and  see  if  the  mill  really  opens  this 
morning,  as  Mr.  Malcolm  swore  it  should." 

He  found  that  the  mill  was  really  opened, 
as  has  been  already  related.  As  he  walked 
away  from  the  gate,  he  thought  over  the 
position  of  affairs.  It  really  looked  as  if 
the  corporation  had  some  conscience  about 
this  thing,  and  he  wondered  to  himself 
whether  the  "Associates"  were  not  e^oinof  to 
be  beaten,  after  all.  A  man  joined  him  as 
he  slowly  walked  toward  the  main  street. 


Continuance  of  the  Strike,  129 

"  Lots  of  bluff  about  old  Malcolm,  isn't 
there?"  he  said,  as  he  overtook  Vance. 

*•  Well,"  replied  he,  "-  I  never  have 
thought  so  before,  and  I'm  not  sure  of 
it  nov^." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  said  the  other, 
"  that  the  mill  are  going  to  hold  out  any 
time  for  the  sake  of  these  scabs?  Don't 
you  believe  it.  They  like  money  too  well, 
and  they  don't  want  to  get  left  behind,  with 
all  their  new  patterns  half  made.  No,  sir; 
they'll  come  round  all  right  in  a  day  or  two. 
They'll  get  rid  of  these  fellows  easy,  per- 
haps, but  it'll  be  done." 

Vance  made  no  reply,  but  he  had  a  pre- 
monition that  forbade  his  sharing  this  view. 
He  felt  depressed  and  anxious,  and  when, 
as  they  passed  a  groggery,  his  companion 
suggested  a  drink,  he  went  in,  wishing  for 
the  moment  to  drive  out  of  his  mind  the 
doubts  that  oppressed  it. 


130      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

It  unfortunately  required  more  than  one 
glass  of  whiskey  to  do  this,  and,  as  the 
strike  continued,  day  after  day  this  refuge 
from  thought  was  sought  more  steadily. 
With  bitter  secret  tears,  his  wife  saw  him 
falling  into  habitual  intemperance,  and  ruin 
and  misery  staring  them  in  the  face. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MINISTER   AND    DAUGHTER.  —  COERCIVE 
MEASURES. 

TN  the  quiet  parlor  of  a  littie  nouse  that 
-'-  stood  near  and  was  dominated  by  the 
great    white   wooden    church,  formerly  the 

only  one  in  F ,  in  the  pleasantness   of 

whose  sloping  green,  with  its  two  or  three 
great  elms,  it  comfortably  shared,  a  young 
lady  sat  busied  with  the  needle-work  so 
indispensable  to  every  New  England 
woman's  fingers  when  not  otherwise  em- 
ployed. Her  face,  not  beautiful,  still  lacked 
few  of  the  elements  of  womanly  attractive- 
ness, and  her  figure,  tastefully  dressed,  told, 
by  its  perfect  curves  and  easy  poise,  of  a 
health  and  vigor  that  in  no  wise  detracted 
from  the  refinement  that   characterized  her 

131 


132      The  Strike  iji  the  B Mill. 

whole  appearance.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  the  Cono^reo^ational  minister  of  F . 

Her  father  sat  by  the  table,  reading  a 
copy  of  the  Andover  Review,  in  which 
humorous  periodical  he  appeared  to  be 
much  interested ;  though  perhaps  not 
wholly  pleased  with  the  contents,  if  one 
might  judge  by  the  subtle  changes  of  ex- 
pression that  passed  over  his  face,  and  the 
frown  with  which  from  time  to  time  he 
absently  looked  over  his  glasses  at  his 
daughter,  while  endeavoring  to  digest  some 
doctrine  that  w^as  rather  too  fine  for  his 
robust  theological  taste. 

A  widower  for  many  years,  living  alone 
with  his  daughter,  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
sitting  in  her  company  rather  than  seeking 
the  seclusion  of  his  own  study.  They  were 
fast  friends,  and  her  presence  was  never  re- 
garded as  a  hindrance  to  his  writing  or  study. 

The  minister  was  old  in  years,  and   per- 


Min  ister  and  Da  ugh  te  r.  133 

haps  a  little  old  in  the  fashion  of  his  be- 
liefs. He  was  a  simple,  God-fearing  man, 
of  good  parts  and  ripe  scholarship.  Fitted 
to  adorn  a  wider  field  of  usefulness,  he  was 
well  content  to  do  faithfully  his  work  where 
the  lot  had  fallen  to  him.  He  adhered  to, 
and  taught  uncompromisingl}^,  the  doctrines 
that  had  been  the  reliance  of  the  church  for 
eighteen  centuries,  not  esteeming  the  man  of 
the  present  day  as  especially  wiser  than  his 
predecessors,  though  quite  as  prone  to  evil. 

For  the  rest  of  it,  his  charity  for  all  men 
was  boundless,  and  his  generosity  and  kind- 
ness of  heart,  allied  to  a  sad  want  of  worldly 
wisdom,  almost  amounted  to  weakness. 

"  Father,"  said  his  daughter,  laying  her 
work  in  her  lap,  "  I  was  at  Mrs.  Vance's 
house  to-day,  again.  She  is  in  great  trou- 
ble. Things  are  going  from  bad  to  worse 
with  them,  and  with  all  the  people  on  the 
strike." 


134      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

"Yes,  Ellen,"  said  the  minister,  laying 
down  his  book,  after  taking  off  his  glasses 
and  placing  them  between  the  leaves  to 
mark  the  place;  "yes,  I  know  it  too  well. 
These  poor  people  have  made  a  great  mis- 
take, and  seem  unable  to  take  the  simple 
course  necessary  to  repair  it." 

"  Mrs.  Vance  tells  me,"  his  daughter  con- 
tinued, "  that  her  husband  keeps  on  drink- 
ing hard;  that  their  money  is  about  gone, 
and  she  does  not  know  what  they  are  to  do. 
All  the  people  I  see  are  every  day  in  worse 
straits,  and  there  are,  of  course,  others  that 
I  have  not  reached,  still  worse  off,  perhaps. 
I  went  to  see  that  poor  girl  that  lives  over 
the  Vances;  and,  father,  it  is  terrible!  — 
that  poor  creature  has  a  little  child,  and 
they  have  not  had  enough  to  eat." 

"  It  is  indeed  terrible,"  he  replied.  "  You 
must  have  her  on  our  list,  my  dear." 

"  Yes,  I   have  put  her    name    down,  and 


Minister  a7id  Daughter.  135 

she  shall  not  suffer  so  again.  But  our  list 
is  very  long,  and  growing  fast." 

"Couldn't  you  induce  this  girl  to  return  to 
work  for  the  sake  of  her  child?  "  asked  her 
father. 

"  I  tried.  I  told  her  the  order  would 
never  notice  that  one  little  woman  had  left 
them.  She  seemed  to  want  to,  like  many  of 
them,  but  was  afraid,  poor  thing.  Father, 
what  should  we  do  if  it  were  not  for  the 
money  that  has  been  so  generously  given  us 
by  others  for  these  people?  We  have  so 
little  of  our  own,  and  I  think  I  should  die  if 
I  could  do  nothing  to  help  them.  It  is  hard 
enough,  as  it  is,  to  see  so  much  suffering 
and  be  able  to  do  so  little." 

"  Well,  my  daughter,"  said  the  minister, 
"  we  will  do  the  best  we  can.  That  Catho- 
lic priest  is,  I  have  been  glad  to  find,  doing 
all  that  he  can,  too.  Really,"  he  added, 
thoughtfully,  "  he  seems  a  very  worthy  man." 


126      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 


d 


The  door-bell  rang  at  this  moment,  and 
presently  George  Brayton  entered  the  room. 

The  minister  leaned  back  in  his  rock- 
ing chair,  and  extended  his  hand  pleasantly 
to  him. 

"  Ha,  Juvenis  venit  ab  agro,"  he  said, 
with  a  smile;  "how  do  you  do,  George? 
and  how  is  your  good  mother?" 

"We  are  both  well,  thank  you,  Mr. 
Hardy,"  said  Brayton,  w^ho,  as  the  accepted 
suitor  of  his  daughter,  was  b}^  no  means  an 
unfrequent  visitor  at  the  minister's  house. 
The  old  gentleman,  recognizing  his  manly 
character,  was  quite  indifferent  to  his  igno- 
rance of  the  classics,  and  his  devotion  to 
blooded  horses  and  cattle,  but  had  inti- 
mated that  he  should  make  rather  a  point 
of  his  joining  the  church  before  their  mar- 
riage, and,  as  George  was  a  little  slow  about 
this,  their  courtship  was  not  as  short  as  he 
had  hoped  it  might  be. 


Minister  and  Daughter,  137 

They  chatted  a  few  minutes,  when  Mr. 
Hardy  remarked  that  he  must  let  Ellen 
amuse  him,  as  he  had  not  quite  finished  his 
reading,  and  again  lost  himself  in  the  rather 
doubtful  pleasure  found  in  his  pamphlet. 

"I  was  afraid,"  said  George,  "that  1 
should  not  be  able  to  come  to-night,  Ellen." 

"  What,"  she  said,  "  could  keep  you, 
George  }  " 

"  You  may  well  wonder  what  could 
keep  me  away  from  you,"  he  answered; 
"but  this  strike  is  giving  us  all  a  great  deal 
of  trouble,  as  well  as  the  persons  directly 
interested." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  am  very  sure  of  that, 
for  I  share  in  the  troubles  of  these  unfortu- 
nates every  day,  and  have  the  thought  of 
them  with  me  night  and  da3\" 

"  That  is  not  the  onl}^  difficulty,"  he  said, 
"though  I  feel  sorry  for  them,  too." 

"  What  other  phase  of  the  matter  gives 


138      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

you  trouble  ? "  she  asked.  "  I  wish,"  she 
continued,  "  you  would  explain  the  whole 
matter  to  me.  On  the  one  side,  I  hear 
every-da}^  complaints  at  once  of  the  corpo- 
ration and  of  the  '  Associates  of  Toil';  and, 
on  the  other,  blame  is  laid  on  the  strikers 
and  the  order.  I  have  a  confused  idea  of 
the  question  without  knowing  the  facts 
fully.  When  we  have  been  alone,"  she 
added,  with  a  little  smile,  *^  3'ou  always 
seem  to  have  preferred  another  topic,  and  I 
fear  I  have  been  a  little  unwillinor  to  inter- 
rupt  you." 

Georo^e  answered  her  smile  with  a  lovingf 
look,  and,  glancing  furtively  at  Mr.  Hardy, 
w^ho  continued  immersed  in  his  book, 
reached  over  and  seized  and  pressed  her 
hand. 

"Well,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "this 
thinof  has  now  been  ofoino:  on  a  number  of 
weeks,  and  the  strain  is  getting  to  be  con- 


Minister  and  Daughter.  139 


siderable  all  around.  What  appeared  to  be 
on  the  point  of  settlement  at  once  now 
seems  hopelessly  prolonging  itself.  The 
whole  thing  turned,  you  know,  on  the 
demand  of  the  strikers  that  the  company 
discharge  the  men  who  did  not  belong  to 
their  order;  for  their  requests  in  the  matter 
of  wages  were  granted." 

"Was   not  that    a  very    unjust    thing    to 
those  men?"  asked  Ellen. 

"Nothing  could  be  more  so,"  he  an- 
swered. "It  was  utterly  unjustifiable,  and 
no  honorable  man  or  corporation  could 
possibly  entertain  it  for  a  moment.  This 
Mr.  Darragh,  of  whom  you  have  heard, 
is  a  very  sensible  fellow,  and  did  his  best 
to  prevail  with  the  men  to  give  up  this 
absurd  requirement  after  he  had  arranged 
the  wages  for  them,  but  without  success. 
The  local  leaders  seemed  to  have  the 
greater   influence.      They    are    rather    bad 


140      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

fellows,  and  have  now  wdth  them  a  sort 
of  foreign  socialist,  whose  talk  does  the 
men  no  good,  though  many  look  on  him 
as  a  ^  fraud.'  At  any  rate,  they  have  held 
the  men  thus  far,  though  their  resources 
are  about  exhausted.  What  the  outcome 
is  to  be,   I   cannot  say." 

"  Is  not  this  Mr.  Darragh  the  chief  among 
them?"  asked  Ellen.  — '^  Why,  then,  do 
they  not  obey  him  ?  " 

"I  confess,"  answered  George,  "that  I 
am  unable  to  explain  the  working  of  their 
machinery.  They  sometimes  obe}'  submis- 
sively the  orders  of  a  supreme  head,  and 
again  appear  to  be  at  the  mercy  of  the  local 
junta  or  Executive  Committee.  On  the 
other  hand,  questions  are  often  put  in 
their  general  meetings  and  carried  by  a 
majority  of  members.  Darragh  seems  to 
have  done  all  that  he  could.  He  has  ad- 
dressed meeting  after  meeting,  and  worked 


Mifiister  and  Daughter,  141 

with  the  people  outside.  Many  agree  with 
him,  but  seem  afraid  to  antagonize  the 
opposition  ring.  It's  a  wretched  state  of 
things." 

"They  have  told  me,"  said  Ellen,  "of  aid 
they  have  received  from  some  source, 
though  it  appears  to  be  very  insufficient.  I 
could  not  quite  understand  about  it." 

"  Oh,  that  arises  from  the  contributions 
of  laboring  men  elsewhere,"  he  replied. 
"  If  there  were  only  a  few  strikes  at  a 
time  in  the  country,  they  might  be  sus- 
tained in  this  way;  but  there  are  many 
now,  and  the  call  for  funds  cannot  be 
met.  These  people  are  not  receiving  half 
enouo'h.  ]\Ir.  Alston  has  been  here  a  o^reat 
deal,  and  tried  to  make  up  matters  in  various 
ways  —  3'ou  know  how  much  money  he  is 
spending  every  day,  through  you  and  else- 
where, to  help  the  need}'." 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen  ;  "  he  has  given  me  a 


142       The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

great  deal.  What  we  could  have  done  for 
these  poor  women  without  the  help  from 
you  and  him,  I  do  not  know." 

"  Fve  not  done  much;  but  you  have  only 
to  bring  a  case  of  distress  to  Alston's  atten- 
tion, and  he  seems  to  forget  entirely  the  fact 
that  this  strike  is  a  direct  injury  to  his  own 
property,  and  to  lose  sight  of  the  unreason- 
able conduct  of  the  very  persons  whom  he 
puts  his  hand  in  his  pocket  to  help." 

"  He  is  a  noble  man  !  "  said  Ellen. 

"Yes;  I  could  hardly  have  believed  it  of 
a  fellow  brought  up  as  he  has  probably 
been.  Why,  he  has  gone  about  among  the 
hands  himself  in  the  most  energetic  way  try- 
ing to  make  them  hear  reason.  They  like 
him,  but  seem  afraid  to  follow  his  advice. 
He  came  across  that  Kohler,  the  anarchist, 
the  other  day,  in  a  crowd,  and,  hearing 
some  of  his  vile  talk,  Alston  expressed 
his    opinion    of   him    with    entire    freedom. 


Min ister  a n d  Daugh ter,  143 

Kohler  ^  sized  him  up,'  as  they  say,  and 
sneaked  off  in  silence,  the  men  about  only 
laughing  at  him.  Very  fortunately,  the 
anarchist  does  not  appear  to  be  a  magnetic 
sort  of  man. 

"What  troubles  me,  Ellen,  is  that  while 
the  leaders  are  losing  their  grip  and  know 
it,  they  still  have  a  hope  of  doing  some- 
thing that  shall  drive  the  mill  to  terms  by 
scaring  out  the  new  men  they've  taken  on. 
There  have  been  a  good  many  individual 
outrages  and  assaults,  and  they  are  increas- 
ing. I'm  afraid  of  some  organized  violence 
against  the  property  of  the  mill,  or  against 
these  '  scabs,'  as  they  call  them." 

"Yes  — "  said  Ellen;  "what  a  very  un- 
pleasant name  it  is,  by  the  way." 

"These  associations,"  said  Brayton,  "seem 
desirous  of  giving  the  outsiders  the  most 
odious  of  names." 

"  It  is  not  altogether  a  bad  idea  from  their 


144       ^^^^  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

point  of  view,"  said  Ellen.  "  Some  might 
join  to  avoid  such  a  name  as  that." 

The  minister  had  continued  reading 
during  the  conversation  :  but  at  this  mo- 
ment he  laid  down  his  book  again. 

"  George,"  he  said,  "  when  is  this  thing 
to  be  over  ?  I  see  want,  distress,  and  vio- 
lence everywhere." 

"  It  is  everywhere,  sir,"  replied  Brayton  ; 
"  and,  as  I  tell  Ellen,  I  fear  there  may  be 
worse  in  prospect.     We  have  a  large  police 

force  now  for  F .     A  detail  is  on  duty 

here  almost  every  night  from  M ,  and  we 

may  need  them  all  ;  for  the  leaders  and  the 
gang  they  keep  about  them  are  getting 
desperate." 

"  Can  the  town  do  nothing  to  supply  the 
wants  of  this  suffering  population  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Hardy,  who  was  far  more  alive  to  this 
branch  of  the  subject  than  the  one  just 
suggested. 


Minister  and  Daughter.  145 

"  It  is  a  question  with  us,"  said  Brayton, 
"  whether  we  have  a  right  to  extend  the 
pubHc  aid  to  people  who  have  plenty  of 
work  at  wages  they  admit  are  satisfactory, 
and  will  take  neither  ;  but"  — 

"What  is  that?"  said  Ellen,  suddenly; 
"  don't  you  hear  those  shouts  ?  "  Brayton 
arose,  and,  going  to  one  of  the  front  win- 
dows, opened  it  and  listened  a  moment. 

"I  think  I  had  better  go  down  street  and 
look  around  a  little,"  he  said  quietly  to 
Ellen. 

She  looked  in  his  face,  and  was  not 
deceived  by  his  quiet  tones. 

"  George,  don't  go,"  she  said,  quickly,  also 
in  a  low  voice.  "  It  is  something  serious, 
I'm  afraid  —  and  you  will  get  into  danger." 

"  Nonsense,  darling,"  he  said  ;  "  it's  noth- 
ing of  the  kind,  probably  ;  and  none  of  them 
have  anything  against  me. 

"Well,  good-evening  Mr.  Hardy,"  he  said. 


146       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

in  a  louder  tone.  "  I  ouorht  to  be  starting: 
for  home." 

Ellen  followed  him  into  the  hall. 

"  Do  be  careful,  George,"  she  said  as  he 
kissed  her.  "  All  right,  I  will,"  he  replied, 
affectionately  but  carelessly,  and  went  out. 

She  returned  to  the  sitting-room,  and, 
again  opening  the  window,  stood  with  the 
cool  evening  air  fanning  her  face,  that  had 
suddenly  grown  very  pale.  Her  hand  was 
pressed  to  her  bosom,  as  if  to  still  the  beat- 
ing of  her  heart,  while  she  listened  intently. 
The  next  moment  she  drew  back  as  she 
heard  the  sound  of  many  feet  approaching 
the  house,  and  six  or  eight  rough-looking 
men  ran  by.  She  could  hear  their  loud 
words,  and  noticed  sticks  or  other  weapons 
in  their  hands.  As  she  leaned  forward  and 
watched  them,  she  saw  a  lad}^  and  gentle- 
man cross  the  street  in  the  moonlight,  as  if 
to  avoid  them.     The  sound  of  their  heavy 


Ministej'  and  Daughter,  147 

steps  soon  died  away,  and,  though  listening 
long,  Ellen  heard  nothing  more. 

"  Had  you  not  better  close  that  window, 
my  dear  ?  "  said  her  father,  who,  in  his  ab- 
sent way,  had  been  aware  of  nothing  un- 
usual. "  It  is  rather  a  chilly  evening  to  sit 
out-of-doors,  as  I  seem  to  be  doing  just  at 
present." 

Brayton,  upon  leaving  the  minister's 
house,  ran  in  the  direction  of  the  noise, 
and,  as  he  passed  down  the  street,  met  the 
party  of  men  that  startled  Ellen  a  mo- 
ment or  two  later.  He  stopped  as  they 
brushed  by  him  without  recognition,  but, 
overhearing  a  remark  of  one  of  them, 
judged  that,  instead  of  meditating  mischief, 
they  were  running  from  the  scene  of  dis- 
order, and  so  kept  on  his  way.  He  proved 
to  be  right  in  this  conjecture,  for,  though  the 
loud  cries  had  now  ceased,  he  heard  voices 
as  he  reached  the  head  of  a   narrow   way 


148       The  Strike  7?i  the  B All  11. 

that  made  out  of  the  main  street,  and, 
adjusting  his  revolver  in  his  hip  pocket,  he 
instantly  turned  the  corner  and  walked  rap- 
idly tow^ard  a  group  of  men  a  few  rods 
down  the  alley.  They  proved  to  be  mem- 
bers of  the  town  police,  who  were  talking 
with  two  non-union  men,  whom,  it  ap- 
peared, they  had  just  rescued  from  a  gang 
of  ruffians,  by  whom  they  had  been  dogged 
and  finally  assaulted  in  this  out-of-the-way 
corner.  One  man,  standing  handcuffed  in 
charge  of  a  policeman,  was  the  only  one 
of  the  cowards  who  had  not  been  quick 
enough  to  escape  when  the  officers  ap- 
peared. This,  fortunately,  had  been  in  time 
to  prevent  serious,  if  not  fatal,  injury  to  the 
two  poor  fellows  whom  they  found  de- 
fending themselves  manfully  against  over- 
whelming odds.  Brayton  heard  the  details 
of  the  affair  with  rising  indignation. 

"  Keep   that  scoundrel  safe,"   he   said    to 


Mi7iister  and  Daughter,  149 

the  policemen,  pointing  to  the  prisoner, 
'^  and  have  him  up  to-morrow  morning;  and 
spare  no  pains  to  get  track  of  the  others. 
You  say  you  recognized  none  of  them? 
Did  not  youf''  he  added,  turning  to  the 
men  who  had  been  assaulted,  as  the  officers 
shook  their  heads. 

"No,  sir,"  answered  one  of  them;  "we 
are  strangers  here,  and  know  hardly  any 
one.  We  only  took  on  at  the  mill  last 
Monday." 

"  Well,"  said  Brayton  to  the  police,  "  find 
them  out,  if  possible.  There  have  been 
enough  of  these  outrageous  performances  in 

F ,  and  it  seems  very  queer  that  these 

rascals  can  get  away  every  time." 

Bra3^ton  spoke  sharpl}^,  for  he  felt  very 
keenly  the  disgrace  resting  upon  the  town 
that  could  not  protect  its  citizens. 

"  You  should  not  blame  us,  sir,"  said  one 
of  the    officers.       "  These    fellows    lay    for 


150      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

their  men  and  pounce  on  them,  and  off 
they  go  before  any  one  can  get  to  them. 
Only  for  these  two  making  such  a  good 
fight,  they'd  have  been  half  killed  before 
we  could  possibly  get  here.  We  cannot  be 
everywhere,  Mr.  Brayton,  though  we  try 
hard  enough." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Brayton,  more  pleas- 
antly, "do  the  best  you  can.  We'll  make 
an  example  of  this  gentleman,  at  any  rate. 
Which  way  are  you  going?"  he  asked 
the  two   men. 

"We're  on  our  way  home,  over  to  the 
south  tenement  block." 

"Come  along,  then,"  said  Brayton;  "I'll 
see  you  home.  No!"  he  said  to  a  couple  of 
the  policemen,  who  took  up  their  march 
behind  them;  "3'ou  lose  no  time,  all  of 
you,  in  trying  to  head  some  of  that  gang  to- 
night. They  went  up  the  street,  and  you 
might  find  them  together.     I  can  take  care 


Minister  and  Daughter,  151 


of  these  men,  for  I  have  my  seven-shooter 
w^ith  me.  Is  your  arm  much  hurt?"  he 
asked  of  one  of  the  men,  who  held  up  his 
ri^ht  arm  with  the  other  hand. 

"Not  much,  I  guess,"  said  the  man; 
"but  a  fellow  fetched  me  a  clip  with  his 
club  just  in  the  place  where  I  got  a  bullet- 
wound  twenty-odd  years  ago,  and  it's  rather 
a  tender  spot.       It  hurts  some,  but  it's  noth- 


ins:  serious." 


"  Ah,  yes  —  too  bad,"  said  Brayton. 
"These  strikers  are  some  of  them  as 
cruel  as   they  are   unjust." 

"  If  they  have  no  reason  for  pitching  into 
us,"  continued  the  man,  warmly;  "they 
ought  at  least  to  give  us  fair  play  in  a  fight, 
damn  them!  It  is  too  bad,  sir,"  he  went 
on,  "  that  a  man  can't  earn  a  living  in  a  free 
country,  without  having  to  fight  for  his  life 
at  the  same  time.  Is  there  no  law,  or  do 
these  '  Associates  '  run  the  country?  " 


152       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 


"There  is  law;"  replied  Brayton,  —  he 
stopped  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  man's 
shoulder,  —  "and  you'll  find  hereafter,  I 
hope,"  he  continued,  "  that  the  '  Associates 
of  Toil '  don't   run  F ,  at  any  rate." 

"Well,"  said  the  man,  "I  hope  not.  I 
think  we  have  a  right  to  work^  if  nothing 
else." 

"  It  w^ould  seem  so,"  said  Bray  ton,  w^ith  a 
laugh.  "  It  is  certainly  very  little  to  ask  of 
society — a  chance  to  work  in  peace.  I 
suppose,"  he  continued,  as  they  walked 
along  together,  "  you  knew  about  the  strike 
w^hen  you  came  here  for  work?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  one.  "  But  we  were 
thrown  out  of  work  three  weeks  ago  by  the 

strike  over  in  H .     The  mill  had  to  shut 

down,  you  know,  and  when  we  heard  that 
these  men  w^ere  onl}^  standing  out  because 
of  some  non-union  men  beins^  allow^ed 
work,  we  didn't  see  why  we  hadn't  a  right 


c 


Mill  iste  r  and  Da  ugh  te  r,  153 

to  come.  We  ain't  ^Associates  of  Toil,'  but 
if  they  was  out  on  a  matter  of  wages  we'd 
never  cut  under  them,  '  Associates '  or  no 
^Associates.'     That's  fair  enough,  ain't  it?  " 

^  I    should    say    it    was,"    said    Brayton. 

Why  is  it  that  you  are  not  members  of 
the  order?"    he  asked,  after  a  moment. 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  who  was  a 
straight,  tall  fellow,  "  I  prefer  to  be  my  own 
master.     I  w^as  a  soldier  in  the  war"  — 

"Ah !  there's  where  you  were  wounded  ?  " 
said  Brayton. 

"  Yes.  I  didn't  mind  being  officered 
round  there,  for  I  knew  the  need  of  it. 
Every  one  there  had  to  obey  some  one  else 
—  officers  and  all  —  except,  perhaps,  old 
Grant,"  added  the  man,  with  a  little  laugh. 
"  But  when  they  came  around  about  this 
'  Associates  of  Toil  '  business,  I  made  up 
my  mind  I  didn't  want  an}*  of  it." 

"  Didn't  you  like  the  style  of  its  manage- 


154       '^^^^  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

ment,  or  what  was  the  trouble  ? "  asked 
Brayton. 

"  I  w^ant  to  do  as  I  think  best  about  my 
work,"  replied  the  other.  "  With  them, 
first  it's  orders  and  then  it's  voting,  and  you 
don't  know  where  you  are.  But,"  he  added, 
emphatically,  "  it's  pretty  sure  to  be  w^here 
you  don't  want  to  be,  every  time.  As  to 
management  —  well,  I  can  see  that  a  few 
men  manage  it  so  that  they  can  get  a  living 
out  of  it,  no  matter  what  becomes  of  the 
crowd." 

"Don't  you  think,"  asked  Brayton,  "that 
you  men  will  be  forced  to  join  some  time?" 

The  other  man,  who  had  hitherto  been  a 
listener,  now  said,  quickly:  — 

"Never!  They  can't  force  us  nor  a  good 
many  others  into  that  thing.  I've  worked," 
he  continued,  "  for  hard  men  and  easy  men; 
but,  w^hichever  they  are,  I'll  make  my  ovvn 
bargains.     And  if  I  see  a  chance  to  get  on 


Minister  and  Daughter.  155 


fairly,  I'm  going  to  take  it  without  asking 
leave  of  the  ^Associates  of  Toil.'  No 
bummers  and  shirks  are  going  to  tie  me 
down  to  their  rates." 

"That's  the  way  of  it,  is  it?"  said  Bray- 
ton,  who  was  interested,  and  liked  to  draw 
them  out.  "  It  tends  to  keep  you  all  down 
to  one  level?  " 

"Yes,  sir  —  that's  just  the  way  oi  it. 
And  they  can  blow  about  its  being  a  help 
to  the  laboring  man,  as  much  as  they  like 
—  it  keeps  more  down  than  it  helps  up." 

"How  is  it,"  asked  Brayton,  "that  so 
many  have  gone  into  it  and  stay  in?" 

"Well,"  said  the  man,  "that's  hard  to 
say.  Many  good  men  thought  at  first  it 
might  be  a  good  thing,  and  some  think  so 
yet,  perhaps;  but  I  know  lots  of  them  that 
are  sick  of  it.  The  poor  workmen  like  to 
be  taken  care  of  by  executive  committees 
and  such  like,  and  to  be  as  important  and 


156      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

have  as  much  to  say  as  those  who  work 
harder  and  do  better  with  what  they  get. 
It's  that  kind  of  men  that  stand  most  by 
the  order,  and  can't  see  that  it's  doing  them 
harm." 

"Hallo,"  said  Brayton,  stopping;  "here 
"we  are  at  the  south  tenement.  The  police 
keep  these  fellows  away  from  here  pretty 
much,  don't  they?" 

"  Oh,  yes  —  but  we  hear  talk  round 
that  they're  going  to  blow  us  up  some 
time." 

"  I  reckon,"  said  Brayton,  "  that  we'll 
prevent  that.  It  seems  to  me,"  he  added, 
looking  at  the  stars,  as  he  stood,  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  leaning  against  the 
fence  that  ran  alons:  the  front  of  the  build- 
ing,  "  as  if  you  men  had  rather  the  best 
notion  of  this  labor  matter.  And,  in  spite 
of  the  treatment  3'ou  have  just  received,  I 
am    inclined    to    think     that     many    of    the 


Minister  and  Daughter.  157 

'  Associates '  in  this  town  would  agree  with 
you  to-da}^" 

"  Fm  sure  of  it,"  said  one  of  the  men; 
"  though  there's  some  of  them  mighty  ugly 
and  determined." 

"  Now,"  said  Brayton,  drawing  his  self- 
cocking  seven-shooter  from  his  pocket, 
"you  had  a  hard  time  to-night,  and  I  feel 
very  sorry  about  it.  I  will  lend  you  this 
pistol,"  he  said,  handing  it  to  the  old  sol- 
dier, "  if  you'll  agree  to  carry  it  and  shoot 
down  the  first  scoundrel  who  attacks  you 
again.  And  when  you,"  he  added,  turning 
to  the  other  man,  "  are  at  the  police  station 
to-morrow  as  a  witness  on  the  trial  of  that 
fellow,  I'll  give  orders  that  they  give  you 
another,  on  the  same  understanding.  It 
won't  be  as  good  a  one  as  mine,  but  it  will 
be  good  enough." 

The  men  thanked  him,  and,  bidding  them 
good-evening,  he  walked  down  to  the  stable 


158      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill 


for  his  horse,  as  it  was  too  late  to  return 
to  the  minister's  that  evenins^.  He  thouo^ht, 
as  he  went  along,  of  the  change  that  had 
come  over  this  New  Eno^land  villao^e,  where 
he  knew  even  his  own  safety  required  him 
to  go  armed  after  nightfall;  and  where,  day 
and  night,  a  large  number  of  peaceable  men 
and  women,  who  were  trying  to  get  their 
living,  were  liable  to  insults  and  violence; 
were,  indeed,  except  for  strong  police  pro- 
tection, in  far  more  danger  of  life  and  limb 
here,  in  a  state  hitherto  famed  for  the  wis- 
dom of  its  laws  and  the  safety  and  free- 
dom of  its  citizens,  than  in  those  lawless 
western  communities  in  which  he  had  lived. 
He  thought  of  Darragh  and  many  good 
quiet  men  whom  he  knew  in  the  town,  who 
belonged  to  the  order  of  the  "  Associates  of 
Toil,"  and  he  marvelled  that  such  men 
could  not  see  the  wickedness  of  giving 
their  moral  support  to  an  organization  that, 


Min  ister  ajid  Da  ugh  ter,  159' 

while  it  denounced  violence  in  high-sound- 
ing phrases,  3'et  countenanced,  and  suffered 
to  remain  in  its  ranks,  the  perpetrators  of 
these  outrages;  and,  indeed,  never  scrupled 
to  avail  itself  of  any  temporary  advantages 
that  might  be  occasionally  gained  by  such 
nefarious  tactics. 

Brayton  v^as  aroused  from  these  medita- 
tions by  the  rumble  of  a  heavy  two-horse 
wagon  that  was  pulled  up  suddenly  just  as 
it  got  by  him. 

"  Why,  that  is  yew,  George,"  said  the 
voice  of  Mr.  Bradshaw,  who  was  perched 
high  at  the  forward  end  of  a  load  of  farm 
produce.  "  Ye're  out  pritty  middlin'  airly, 
ain't  ye  ?  " 

"  I  call  it  pretty  middling  late,"  said 
Brayton  ;  "but  I'm  no  later  than  you." 

"  Oh  —  I'm  goin'  into  th'  city  with  a  load 
er  truck.  —  Cal'late  to  be  to  th'  market  by 
four  o'clock  in  the  mornin'  ye  see.     Naow, 


i6o       The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

George,  I  ain't  in  no  great  uv  a  hurry,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Bradshaw,  letting  his  reins  drop 
loosely,  and  throwing  one  leg  over  the  other 
knee.  "  Fd  like  to  see  if  me  and  you 
couldn't  settle  suthin'  'bout  them  heifers. 
Ye  see  "  — 

"  Now,  Mr.  Bradshaw,"  interrupted  Bray- 
ton,  laughing,  "you  may  just  go  to  thunder  ; 
I'm  not  eroinor  to  stand  here  trading-  cows  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  by   a   long   chalk. 

So  you  just  '  hump  '  yourself  for  B ,  and 

I'll  drive  home  and  get  to  bed.  Good- 
night." 

"  Sho,  naow,  George  —  hold  on  jest  a 
minnit,"  said  the  farmer,  picking  up  his 
reins,  and  starting  the  team  to  keep  up  with 
Brayton,  who,  suiting  action  to  word,  was 
walking  on. 

"  I  like  them  critters,  George,"  he  contin- 
ued, walking  his  horses  alongside.  "  Naow  I 
railly'd  like  ter  talk  it  over  a  piece  with  ye  —  " 


Minister  and  Daughter,  i6i 


"  I'll  be  up  by  your  place  some  day  and 
stop,"  said  Brayton. 

"  That's  it — naow  dew,  Georges'  —  soon's 
ye  can,  too,"  said  Mr.  Bradshaw,  eagerly. 

"  Half  Durham,  ye  said,  George  ?  "  he 
called,  as  Brayton  turned  into  the  stable 
yard.  "Waal,  good-night,  good-night"; 
and  Mr.  Bradshaw  resumed  his  weary  jour- 
ney to  market,  while  Brayton,  waking  up 
the  stable  boy,  got  his  mare  put  in,  and 
drove  home. 


CHAPTER  V. 


A    DIRECTOR. 


ly/TR.  ALSTON'S  interest  in  the  differ- 
ences between  the  corporation  and 
its  employes,  as  we  have  heard  from  Bray-' 
ton,  had  not  flagged.  Determining,  when 
the  trouble  first  arose,  to  make  a  careful 
study  of  the  matter,  the  later  phases  of  the 
difficulty  and  the  singular  position  assumed 
by  the  strikers  only  had  the  effect  of  far- 
ther stimulating  his  curiosity,  and  affording 
him  a  more  complete  illustration  from 
which  to  study  the  general  questions  sug- 
gested. He  inherited  a  large  interest  in 
the  property  at  his  father's  death,  but  had 
hitherto  attached  little  importance  to  his 
position  as  a  director,  had  rarely  attended  a 
meeting,  and    looked    upon  the   B mill 


162 


A  Director.  163 


only  as  a  source  of  income  when,  as 
usually,  it  paid,  and  of  annoyance  when  it 
passed  a  dividend. 

He  had  been  thoroughly  aroused,  as  we 
have  seen,  by  the  unjust  attitude  that  the 
corporation  had  so  long  maintained  toward 
its  employes,  in  the  matter  of  wages.  It 
had  made  a  strong  impression  upon  his 
careless  mind,  and  he  began  to  comprehend 
the  fact  that  the  employment  of  thousands 
of  people  carried  with  it  certain  responsi- 
bilities toward  them.  That  mill  hands  were 
men  and  women  —  not  cotton,  as  Mr. 
Hartwell  expressed  it,  to  be  paid  for  and 
thought  no  more  of;  that  their  needs,  their 
deserts,  and  even  their  sentiments  and 
prejudices,  were  entitled  to  fair  considera- 
tion. And  if,  according  to  the  popular 
aphorism,  a  corporation  had,  as  such,  no 
soul  wherewith  to  recognize  these  things, 
that   fact  did    not  excuse  its   officials    from 


164      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

the  possession  of  theirs.  He  saw,  in  the 
light  of  his  own  involuntary  injustice,  how 
hard  it  was  for  the  individual  workman  to 
stand  up  for  his  rights  against  a  rich  corpo- 
ration that  had  hejp  offering  in  all  direc- 
tions; and  that,  unless  a  certain  abstract  jus- 
tice characterized  its  dealings,  the  laborer 
was  likely  to  go  to  the  wall.  And  he  now 
began  to  see  the  raison  d^etre  of  labor 
organizations.  Turning  his  attention  to  the 
order  of  the  "Associates  of  Toil,"  he  had 
abundant  evidence  before  him  that,  while 
the  shortcomings  of  human  nature  rendered 
it  sometimes  difficult  for  business  relations 
between  men  to  adjust  themselves  with 
absolute  fairness,  the  same  reason  prevented 
this  organization  from  accomplishing  any 
good  purpose.  That,  while  intended  in  its 
inception  to  be  of  present  benefit  to  him,  it 
was  already  becoming  a  positive  injury  to 
the  laboring   man,  and  that,  from  its  great 


A  Director,  165 


numbers  and  the  ease  with  which  it  could 
be  manipulated  by  bad  men,  it  might,  if  it 
continued  too  long,  menace  social  order 
and  the  liberties  of  the  people;  while  the 
hope  of  bringing  about  by  these  arbitrary 
means  the  ultimate  theoretical  objects  it 
professed  to  have  in  view  was  the  impos- 
sible dream  of  mere  enthusiasts.  In  the 
case  before  him,  he  had  been  at  first  glad 
to  find  the  way  clear  to  repair  the  injustice 
of  the  employer,  and  that,  as  he  had 
thought,  it  was  so  easily  accomplished. 
But  when  he  found  that  his  espousal  of 
the  cause  of  the  workmen  was  rendered 
nugatory  by  their  own  folly  and  injustice, 
he  had  felt  the  sincerest  regret  and  disap- 
pointment. 

All  these  contradictions  puzzled  and  dis- 
tressed him,  and  being  much  of  his  time  in 

F during  the  intervening  weeks,  he  had 

personally   seen    and   reasoned    on    various 


1 66      The  Strike  in  the  B ]\IilL 

occasions  with  one  and  another  of  the  men 
whom  he  had  met,  in  the  endeavor  to  per- 
suade them  to  abandom  their  wrong  position 
and  end  the  strike.  His  belief  in  the  mis- 
chievous character  of  their  organization  was 
intensified  when  he  found  how  many  of  its 

members  in  F were   not   in   sympathy 

with  its  attitude  on  this  question,  and  were 
prevented  from  going  back  to  work  at  the 
new  and  satisfactory  rates  of  wages  by 
their  fears  alone. 

For  several  weeks  he  had  largely  given 
up  his  usual  employments  and  recreations 
and  appeared  to  think  of  little  else  but  the 
affairs  of  the  corporation  and  of  the  strik- 
ing operatives. 

He  revived  his  studies  in  political  econ- 
omy, neglected  since  leaving  college,  and 
spent  many  hours  in  the  factory,  learning 
the  methods  of  work  and  the  relations  of 
the  men  to  the  machinery  that  they  used. 


A  Director.  167 


In  short,  the  practical  part  of  manufactur- 
incr.  His  club  knew  him  no  more,  and,  as 
he  never  had  time  now  to  follow  the  hounds, 
the  villanous  Pat  was  daily  doing  his  best 
to  kill  the  plucky  little  groom  who  ventured 
to  2:ive  him  his  exercise. 

Alston  was  told  one  morning  while  at 
breakfast  that  this  person  was  below  and 
desired  to  speak  with  him. 

"  Perhaps,"  suggested  his  wife,  "  some 
one  has  sent  you  an  offer  for  Pat.  I  hope 
so,  Pm  sure." 

"I  doubt  it  extremely,"  replied  Alston. 
"  He's  rather  too  well  known,  I  fancy,  for 
that.  Indeed,"  he  added,  "  I  should  almost 
be  afraid  to  sell  him,  for  fear  of  a  future 
action  for  criminal  negligence." 

"  Ned,"  said  his  wife,  looking  around  the 
tea  urn  with  a  solemn  face,  "  does  the 
thought  of  your  criminal  negligence  in 
riding  that  horse  never  occur  to  you  ? " 


1 68      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

"  Ada  !  "  he  replied,  with  the  expression 
of  a  judge  when  about  to  pronounce  sen- 
tence of  death,  "  it  does.  I  have  often  been 
afraid,"  he  continued,  "  that  that  horse 
w^ould  break  his  neck,  and  that  I  was  wrong 
to  thus  ride  him  to  his  doom." 

Mrs.  Alston  deigned  no  further  remark, 
but  got  out  her  handkerchief  with  a  con- 
siderable flourish. 

Alston  laughed.  "  My  dearest,"  he  said, 
"  why  are  you  so  ridiculous  on  this  one  sub- 
ject, when  you  are  so  exceedingly  sensible 
•on  all  others.  Abnormally  so,  in  fact, — 
for  a  woman,"  he  added,  musingly. 

"  For  a  w^oman,  indeed,"  exclaimed  his 
w^ife,  replacing  her  handkerchief  with  a 
look  of  great  disgust.  "  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you,  I  am  sure.  Really  you  are 
quite  too  complimentary  this  morning,  Ned. 
Pray,  are  we  to  see   you  at   lunch    to-day, 

sir,"  she  added,  "  or  are  you  to  be  in  F , 

as  usual  ?  " 


A  Director,  169 


"  F ,  as  usual,  I  fear,"  he  said. 

He  arose  from  his  chair,  and  went  around 
the  table. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand, 
"  let  us  part  in  all  charity.  Upon  more 
mature  reflection,  I  feel  that  I  have  done 
you  an  injustice.  You  are  the  best  of  your 
sex,  it  is  true,  but  you  are  not  too  un- 
pleasantly sensible,  after  all  —  " 

^' Go  away,  —  wretch!"  said  his  wife, 
laughing,  as  she  pushed  away  his  hand  ; 
"  your  conduct  is  simply  disgraceful  — 
there!" 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  think  I  had  better 
go  down  and  see  what  that  little  beggar 
James  has  to  say.  I  think  I  know  pretty 
well.  I  hope  he  will  treat  me  better  than 
you  have,  at  all  events." 

"  How  are  you,  James  ?  "  he  said,  as  he 
entered  the  room  where  the  horsy-look- 
ing   little     Englishman,    with    mutton-chop 


170      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

whiskers  and  saddle-bowed  legs,  was 
waiting. 

The  groom  touched  his  forehead  with  a 
forefinger,  as  he  arose  from  his  chair. 

"  What  brings  you  to  town  to-day,"  con- 
tinued Alston;  '^nothing  the  matter  with 
Major  or  Pat,  is  there?" 

"  Major,  sir,  is  hall  right,"  replied  the 
man;  ^' but  hit's  about  that  'ere  'oss  Pat,  Mr. 
Halston,  that  I've  come  hup,  sir.  'E's  that 
wicked,  sir,  that  'e'll  do  hisself  a  mischief, 
I'm  afraid,  let  alone  me,  if  'e  ain't  ridden 
some,  sir." 

"I'm  afraid  he  will,"  said  Alston;  "I 
wonder  if  I  hadn't  better  have  him  shot?" 

"Oh,  no,  sir,  'e's  too  good  a  'oss!"  said 
the  groom,  quickly,  his  admiration  for  the 
high  qualities  of  the  animal  overcoming 
his  disgust  at  his  bad  conduct.  "  I  honly 
wanted  to  know,"  he  went  on,  "  hif  me  or 
'Enery,  or  some  of  the  gentlemen  as  might 


A  Di recto?'.  171 


want,  could  'ave  'im  hout  once  or  twice  a 
week  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Alston;  "hunt  him  your- 
self, or  let  any  good  rider  have  him  that 
wants  him.  They  can't  hurt  him,  confound 
him!  It  don't  much  matter,  so  that  he 
don't  hurt  them.     By  the   way,"  he   added, 

"  I  was  going  to  F to-da3\     Suppose  I 

take  the  train  with  you  and  ride  that  brute 
across  from  the  kennels.  It's  about  twenty- 
five   miles  over  to   F ,  and    I    can  take 

considerable  out  of  him,  I  should  say.  Til 
ride  him  back  to-morrow,  or  next  day." 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  the  groom,  doubt- 
fully, "you'll  'ave  your  'ands  full,  I  dessay; 
and  the  'ard  'igh-road's  none  too  good  for 
ees  legs.  But  Pat  and  you,  sir,  seem  to  get 
on  together  better  than  'e  does  with  most 
others.  As  for  the  pounding,"  he  contin- 
ued, thoughtfully,  with  an  English  groom's 
objection  to  a  hunter  being  ridden  off  the 


172       The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

turf,  "  I  don't  know  —  but  nothin'  ever 
did  seem  to  'urt  that  'ere  particular  'oss, 
some'ow."   he   concluded,   more   cheerfully. 

Early  in  the  afternoon,  Alston  turned  into 

the  main  street  of  F .     His   horse  was 

dark  with  sweat,  but  had  apparently  plenty 
of  "  go  "  left  in  him  yet.  The  fire  in  his 
eye  was  unquenched,  and  his  temper  evi- 
dently still  unsubdued. 

The  animal  had,  indeed,  needed  exercise. 
Attracted  by  his  matchless  power  and  sym- 
metry, joined  to  an  unimpeachable  pedi- 
gree, Alston  had  purchased  him  in  Ireland 
for  a  song,  after  nearly  coming  to  grief  in 
trying  him,  his  extreme  viciousness  render- 
ing him  almost  worthless.  With  infinite 
trouble,  and  some  risk,  he  had  succeeded  in 
establishing  a  sort  of  armed  neutrality  be- 
tween them  for  the  most  part,  and,  when  the 
horse  chose  to  go  straight,  he  had  the  satis- 
faction of  beinof  the  best  mounted  man   in 


A  Director.  173 


every  field  with  which  he  rode.  When  he 
didn't  so  choose,  it  was  quite  another  affair. 
Perhaps  Alston  had  never  had  more  diffi- 
culty in  keeping  his  seat  and  his  temper 
than  on  this  occasion.  The  animal  seemed 
possessed  of  the  devil,  and  had  done  about 
everything  but  get  down  and  roll  over  him. 
His  master  wondered  if  it  were  not  possible 
for  a  horse  to  be  insane,  as,  straining  his 
powerful  neck  and  gripping  the  bit  hard, 
with  swelling  muscles  and  every  nerve 
tense,  the  wicked  beast  curveted  and 
plunged  down  the  street,  aroused  to  re- 
newed efforts  by  the  sights  and  sounds  of 
the  village.  Dusty  and  tired,  and  with  his 
temper  at  last  little  better  than  that  of  his 
horse,  Alston  pulled  him  hard  around  to 
enter  the  stable-yard  of  the  tavern.  A 
group  of  men  loitering  on  the  sidewalk 
jumped  aside,  as  the  great  horse  swerved 
violently  from  some   object   in   the   narrow 


174       T^^^  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

passage-way,  and  Alston  heard  one  of  them 
say,  loudly:  "That's  like  your  kind  —  to 
ride  over  us!  If  we  had  horses  we'd  ride 
over  you!  " 

In  Alston's  state  of  mind  at  the  moment, 
these  words  acted  like  oil  on  a  smoulderingf 
fire.  Straightening  his  horse  with  a  strong 
wrench,  he  threw  both  i^oX.  from  the  stir- 
rups and  sprang  from  the  saddle  with  his 
hand  on  the  pommel.  Alighting  on  the 
sidewalk,  he  turned  and  confronted  the  man 
who  had  spoken,  with  an  angry  stare. 

"  Well,  sir,"  he  said,  savagely,  "  you  can 
have  a  horse;  take  this  one!  Upon  my 
w^ord  of  honor,  if  you'll  ride  him  across  the 
street,  3^ou  can  have  him  for  nothing  and 
welcome.  Come  —  get  on,  man  !  "  he 
added,  pointing  to  the  saddle,  as  the  man 
looked  wonderingly  at  him.  "  Get  on,  and 
ride  over  whom  ever  you  please." 

The  others  stared,  then  laughed.    "Mount 


A  Director.  175 


him,  Jake!"  they  cried,  "go  ahead!  The 
gentleman  will  keep  his  word." 
'  The  man,  a  good-looking  young  fellow 
of  about  Alston's  height  and  build,  gave 
him  a  surly  glance  and  looked  at  the  horse, 
that  stood  for  the  moment  quiet  before  him, 
with  heaving  flanks.  He  made  a  step  for- 
ward, as  if  to  mount,  when  he  caught  the 
animal's  eye  rolling  viciously  in  its  socket, 
and  heard  Alston's  quick  cry  of  "  look  out 
there!"  and  he  leaped  backward  just  in 
time  to  escape  a  sudden  stroke  of  the 
horse's  forefoot.  It  was  fortunate  for  him 
that  Alston,  keeping  one  eye  constantly  on 
the  dangerous  animal,  whose  every  move- 
ment he  understood,  had,  as  he  warned  him, 
jerked  the  rein  violently  and  destroyed  the 
horses'  balance,  lessening  the  reach  and  pre- 
cision of  the  blow,  else  it  might  not  have 
been  avoided. 

"You   want    me   killed,   I   guess,"    mut- 


176      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill 

tered  the  man,  as  he  moved  further 
away. 

"Well,"  said  Alston,  now  quite  mollified; 
"  you  give  him  up,  do  you  ?  Perhaps  3^ou 
see,  my  friend,"  giving  another  pull  on  the 
rein,  as  the  horse  seemed  to  meditate  further 
mischief,  "that  I  was  not  myself  much  to 
blame  for  so  nearly  riding  you  down.  My 
name  is  Alston,"  he  went  on  with  a  nod  to 
the  men,  "  and  you  all  ought  to  know  by 
this  time  that  I  am  not  one  to  impose  on 
any  man." 

"That's  so  —  I've  heard  of  you,  Mr. 
Alston,"  said  one  of  the  men  heartily,  as 
Alston  turned  away  and  led  his  horse  care- 
fully to  the  stable,  where,  with  his  own 
assistance,  the  pernicious  beast  was  put  up, 
and,  in  the  littered  seclusion  of  his  stall,  had 
time  to  reflect  upon  his  sinful  nature,  and 
the  extra  fatigue  it  had  entailed  upon  him. 

Alston,  who  never  missed  an  opportunity 


A  Director,  177 


of  talking  with  the  strikers,  and  knowing 
these  men  to  be  of  their  number,  went  back 
to  the  street,  where  they  still  remained, 
talking  and  chaffing  the  would-be  horse- 
man among  their  number.  He  had  good- 
naturedly  laughed  with  them,  and  Alston 
found  them  all  rather  jolly  and  disposed  to 
meet  his  friendly  advances  in  the  same 
spirit. 

^'Come  in  a  minute,"  he  said,  in  his  direct 
way,  "  and  let's  talk  over  the  strike  a  little." 

The  men  hesitated,  and  one  said  that  he 
saw  no  good  in  talking  of  that.  He  had 
seen  enough  of  it  as  it  w^as. 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  Alston;  "there  is 
good  in  it.  I  never  have  met  you  before, 
and  I  want  to  get  your  views.  Come  in, 
come  in." 

The  men  looked  at  each  other,  and  then 
in  his  pleasant  face,  and  came  up  the  steps. 
There  was   quite   a  party  of  them,  tor  the 


178      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill 

little  colloqu}^  bj^the  passage-way  had  drawn 
others  around.  The  curiosity  of  idle  men  is 
alive  to  the  slightest  incident,  and  a  crowd 
forms  readily  when  a  strike  is  in  force. 

Alston  w^as  glad  to  see  that  the  bar  w^as 
closed,  but  sent  for  some  good  cigars  that 
seemed  to  be  appreciated. 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  say  to  us,  Mr. 
Alston?''  said  one  of  the  men,  standing 
near  him. 

'^I've  plenty  to  say  to  you,"  said  Alston, 
with  a  smile.  "  But  I  should  prefer  to  hear 
what  you  had  to  say  first.  Come  now,  Mr. 
Hines,"  he  said,  to  an  older  man,  a  little 
further  off,  "you  are  one  of  the  finance 
committee,  they  tell  me.  How  are  you 
getting  along  with  this  strike?  Has  it  not 
gone  far  enough?" 

"  Well,  sir,"  answered  Hines,  "  I  cannot 
tell  you  anything  got  from  my  official  posi- 
tion in  the  order." 


A  Director.  179 


"No  —  certainly  not,"  ^said  Alston.  "I 
beg  your  pardon  —  that  would  not  be  right. 
But  as  a  private  individual,"  he  continued, 
"  don't  you  think  it  is  quite  time  for  us  to 
make  up  matters  ?  " 

Hines  w^as  a  thoughtful-looking,  middle- 
ao-ed  man.  He  did  not  now  look  at  his 
companions,  but  straight  at  Alston,  and, 
after  a  pause,  said,  with  some  emphasis, — 

"  Things  ain't  been  run  just  right,  and  it 
isn't  the  first  time  I've  thought  so.  And," 
he  added,  turning  a  little  toward  the 
others,  "you  may  all  make  the  most  of 
what  I  say.  But,"  he  went  on,  "  Pm  not 
sure  that  because  this  strike's  been  managed 
bad,  we  ought  to  break  up.  If  the  '  Asso- 
ciates'  don't  stand  together  we  shall  be  a 
failure;  and  that  I'd  hate  to  see." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Alston ;  "  that's  all  right. 
Stick  together  so  long  as  you're  in  the  right, 
but  do  it  to  help  yourselves,  not  to  injure 


i8o      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

somebody  else.  How  can  you  expect  to 
succeed  if  you  are  unjust?  " 

"  That  is  what  Darragh  says,"  returned 
Hines,  "and  I  believe  it's  right.  But  we 
oughtn't  to  go  to  pieces  because  we've 
made  one  mistake." 

"  No,"  said  Alston,  "  but  you  will  go  to 
pieces — you'll  go  to  eternal  smash  all 
around,  I  tell  you,  if  you  don't  repair  your 
mistakes  when  you  see  them  as  plainly  as 
you  do  now." 

The  other  men  did  not  say  anything,  but 
listened  intently. 

"  Now  just  understand  this,"  Alston  went 
on,  after  waiting  a  moment  for  some  one  to 
speak,  "  I'm  not  urging  you  to  come  back 
for  my  own  benefit,  but  wholly  for  your 
own." 

"Why!"  said  another  man,  "don't  it 
hurt  the  mill  to  have  us  on  strike?" 

"Yes,  it  does,"  replied    Alston,  quickly. 


A  Director,  i8i 


"  But  if  we  should  tr}^  we  could  escape  that 
by  filling  it  in  a  week  with  other  help.  But 
we  have  made  no  effort  to  get  them;  just 
taken  the  few  that  have  applied  of  them- 
selves." 

"Why  haven't  you  done  it,  sir?"  per- 
sisted the  man. 

"Why?"  said  Alston.  "Because  the 
superintendent  and  myself  want  to  keep  the 
old  help  if  we  can.  Confound  it,  men! 
can't  you  see  that  we  haven't  wanted  to  fill 
your  places  if  we  could  avoid  it,  in  spite 
of  what  I  am  bound  to  call  your  infernal 
folly." 

As  Alston  said  these  words,  no  man  there 
doubted  him,  or  resented  his  vigorous  lan- 
guage. Honesty  of  purpose  and  strong 
sympathy  for  them  were  in  every  line  of 
his  face.  It  was  evident  that  they  were 
moved,  and  a  look  of  pained  indecision 
came  over  their  faces. 


1 82      The  Strike  hi  the  B Alill. 

"Just  make  a  break  of  it,"  continued 
Alston;  "do  your  duty  to  yourselves  and 
your  families.  If  your  organization  is  good 
for  anything,  it  will  stand  the  lesson  of 
such  action,  and  be  benefited  by  it." 

At  this  moment  Darragh  entered  the 
room.  He  looked  about  him  in  some  sur- 
prise. 

"Here,  Mr.  Darragh,"  called  out  Alston, 
as  he  perceived  him;  "our  friends  here 
have  been  polite  enough  to  listen  to  a  little 
of  your  doctrine  from  me.  Perhaps  I  have 
set  their  minds  at  rest  on  one  point;  but,  for 
the  rest  of  it,  you  are  an  abler  advocate 
than  I." 

"  I  must  go  now^,"  he  added,  looking  at 
his  watch.  As  he  bade  them  good-bye,  his 
hand  itched  to  do  something  directly  to  re- 
lieve their  necessities.  But  he  feared  that 
open  pecuniary  assistance  might  be  mis- 
understood, and   offend  their  pride,  and   he 


A  Director.  183 


considerately  restrained  the  impulse  and 
went  away. 

Two  hours  later  he  entered  the  mill 
office,  and,  asking  for  Mr.  Malcolm,  was 
told  that  he  was  in  the  factory,  talking  with 
a  lot  of  the  old  hands  who  were  proposing 
to  go  to  work. 

"How  many  of  them  are  there?"  asked 
Alston.  The  clerk  understood  they  would 
represent  several  hundred. 

"  They  are  the  first  of  the  '  Associates,'  " 
he  added,  "  who  have  come  in,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  stragglers." 

"  Well,"  said  Alston,  "  thank  goodness 
that  a  little  sense  is  coming  to  some  of 
them  —  Hullo,  Malcolm,"  he  added  to  the 
superintendent,  who  just  entered;  "they 
seem  to  be  breaking  up,  do  they?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Malcolm;  "  many  of  them 
have  been  getting  rather  despondent.  Out- 
side  aid   comes  in  slowly,  and,  as    we    all 


184       The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

know,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  suffering. 
Something  you  and  Darragh  said  to  a  num- 
ber of  them  down  street  seems  to  have 
struck  them  at  just  the  right  moment  —  for 
they  must  have  known  it  all  before,  —  and 
they  say  they'll  leave  the  order,  come  back, 
and  bring  a  lot  with  them.  If  they  stick,  it 
is  my  impression  we  shall  have  seen  the  end 
of  the  trouble,  for  the  whole  are  likely  to 
rush  in  when  they  find  there  are  enough 
to  protect  them.  But  you  can't  tell,"  he 
added;  "I've  seen  many  strikes.  Indeed,  I 
have  been  in  them  in  my  time,  though,  I  be- 
lieve, always  with  a  fair  grievance.  I  know 
how  things  work  with  strikers.  These  have 
agreed  to  come  in  the  morning;  but  we 
may  not  see  one  of  them." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

MR.    HARDY. 

l^wTOTWITHSTANDING  the  obvious 
^  fact  that  few  among  the  mill  operatives 
attended  upon  Mr.  Hardy's  stated  minis- 
trations, he  was  not  unknown  to  man}^  of 
them.  When,  long  subsequent  to  his  settle- 
ment over  the  parish   in   F ,  this   great 

factory  had  been  erected  and  over  three 
thousand  people  added  to  the  population  of 
the  town,  he  had  recognized  the  fact  that, 
while  many  of  them  attended  the  Roman 
Catholic  services  that  had  been  soon  estab- 
lished, yet  there  were  many  who  did  not, 
and  cared  for  no  religious  services.  With- 
out the  expectation  of  drawing  any  to  his 

congregation,   he,  in   his   abundant   charity, 

i8s 


1 86       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

believed  it  his  duty  to  do  what  he  could  for 
them,  whenever  and  wherever  he  could. 

If  men  would  not  hear  him  preach,  they 
at  least  found  that  he  bore  them  no  ill  will 
for  it,  and  was  equally  to  be  relied  upon  in 
their  times  of  sickness  and  distress.  So  it 
came  about  that  he  was  often  among  them, 
and,  though  his  stiff,  old-fashioned  speech 
and  manner  afforded  them  more  or  less 
amusement,  they  had  a  real  liking  and  es- 
teem for  the  kind-hearted  minister. 

Avoiding  any  special  discussion  with 
them  of  the  merits  of  their  strike,  he  had, 
since  it  began,  been  unremitting  in  his 
attention  to  the  sick  and  needy,  and  ear- 
nestly stimulated  the  charitable  societies  of 
his  church  to  active  efforts  among  all,  of 
whatever  nationality  or  belief.  Quite  in- 
different to  the  value  of  money  when  his 
sympathies  were  aroused,  he  gave  away  all 
he  had,  which,  indeed,  was    little   enough, 


Mr.  Ha7'dy.  187 


and  showed  not  the  slightest  false  delicacy 
in  accepting  everything  obtainable,  from  any 
source,  for  this  object  ;  while  the  greatest 
part  of  his  time  was  spent  in  the  dispensa- 
tion of  general  aid  and  comfort. 

He  preached  charity  to  that  extent  that 
some  of  the  more  advanced  theologians 
among  his  own  people  were  fairly  famish- 
inof  for  one  of  his  old  doctrinal  sermons  ; 
and  one  deacon,  of  particularly  rigid  views, 
was  heard  to  say  that  the  parson  ought  to 
remember  that  charity  began  at  home,  and 
that  the  souls  of  the  brethren  needed  food 
as  well  as  the  bodies  of  the  unbelievers. 

Mr.  Hardy  stepped  into  a  grocery,  dry 
goods,  and  hardware  store  on  Main  Street, 
one  morning,  and  requested  the  proprietor 
to  send  around  a  few  indispensables  to  a 
house  where  he  had  just  found  a  sick  man 
in  need. 

"Where    is    it    you    say    he    lives,    Mr. 


1 88      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill 

Hardy  ? "  asked  that  worthy,  who,  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  was  sitting  on  his  counter,  and 
surveying  the  world  through  the  store  door, 
with  a  rather  jaundiced  eye. 

"  It  is  the  last  house  but  one  in  Mill  Alley, 
on  the  right,  Mr.  Jones,  and  the  man's  name 
is  John  O'Flaherty.  He  will  be  easily 
found." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  he's  a  striker,"  said  the  mer- 
chant. "  It's  of  no  use,  Mr.  Hardy  ;  they 
wouldn't  take  the  thinc^s  if  I  sent  them. 
They're  afraid  to,  for  I  am  bojxotted,  you 
know." 

"  Ah  —  yes  —  yes  —  so  you  are  —  too 
bad,  too  bad,"  said  the  minister.  "  Well," 
he  continued,  "  you  can  do  them  up,  and  I 
will  presently  deliver  them  myself." 

"  How  is  the  world  using  you  generally, 
my  friend  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Hardy,  as  the  mer- 
chant proceeded  to  tie  up  the  parcels. 

"  Only  so    so,   parson.      What    with    the 


Mr.  Hardy. 


poor  trade  of  summer  and  this  blessed 
strike,  things  ain't  going  so  well  with  me  as 
they  might." 

"So  I  feared  — so  I  feared,"  said  Mr. 
Hardy,  sympathetically.  "  But  matters  are 
not  so  bad  with  us  as  with  these  poor 
people,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  know  that,  sir,"  said  the  other  ; 
"I'm  not  sure  but  I'll  have  to  stop  soon. 
And  I  have  a  family  to  support,  too,  and  not 
a  cent  saved." 

"  You  do  not  mean  that,  I  trust,  my  good 
sir?"  said  the  minister.  "I  should  be  in- 
deed grieved  that  you  should  meet  with 
misfortune.-  You  have  been  an  honest  man 
who  gives  just  weight,  and  such  should  not 
be  suffered  to  come  to  want." 

"Well,  Mr.  Hardy,  it's  just  here,  you 
see.  I've  always  been  good  to  these  mill 
folks,  and  trusted  them,  and  everything  like 
that,  and  I've  lost  a  good  deal  that  way,  first 


190      The  Strike  in  the  B AlilL 

and  last.  I  was  in  debt  pretty  bad;  and 
now  they  up  and  boycott  me,  because  I 
sold  to  the  superintendent  and  to  the  folks 
they  call  '  scabs.'  And,  w^hile  their  trade 
ain't  much  now,  it  was  a  good  deal  I  lost  at 
first;  and  I  ma}^  have  to  go  under  directly." 

The  minister  looked  grave.  "  This  boy- 
cott is  a  very  objectionable  thing,  Mr. 
Jones.  I  can,  indeed,  find  no  justification 
for  it." 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  man,  with  increas- 
ing warmth,  as  he  reviewed  his  misfor- 
tunes ;  '^  they  ordered  me  to  sell  no  more  to 
them  people,  and  I  told  them  to  go  to  hell. 
Excuse  me,  Mr.  Hardy,  —  but  Fm  an  Amer- 
ican citizen,  and  no  man  shall  dictate 
to  me." 

"  I  sincerely  regret,"  said  the  minister, 
seriously,  "  that  you  should  have  given  way 
to  profanity,  my  good  friend.  But,"  he 
added,  looking   at  the   counter  reflectively, 


Mr,  Hardy,  191 


—  "  so  you  are,  certainly,  an  American  citi- 
zen —  ver}^  true  —  very  true." 

"  Mr.  Hardy,"  the  store-keeper  went  on, 
"  there  are  other  people  who  have  hard 
times  as  well  as  those  who  call  themselves 
laboring  men;  and  others  who  work  just  as 
hard  as  they,  for  precious  little  more  profit, 
and  have  a  darned  sight  more  to  worry 
them  besides." 

The  minister  considered  a  moment.  ^'  I 
am  persuaded,"  he  at  length  said,  "  that  you 
are  right  there,  Mr.  Jones, —  quite  right.  I 
work  hard  myself,  very  hard  sometimes, 
and  for  but  a  moderate  stipend  —  hardly 
adequate,  sometimes,  to  meet  the  calls  upon 
it,"  continued  Mr.  Hardy,  thinking  of  his 
meagre  salary,  so  hard  to  collect.  "  I  think 
you  but  express  a  great  truth  in  what  you 
say,"  he  added,  decisively. 

"  Now,"  continued  Mr.  Jones,  earnestly, 
^'here  they  are  —  staying  on  strike,  as  every- 


192       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

bod}'  knows,  for  nothing  at  all,  and  drinking 
and  boycotting  round,  and  starving  them- 
selves and  everybody  else.  I  think  this 
*  Associates  of  Toil '  business  is  the  mean- 
est, wickedest  thing  going!"  Mr.  Jones  had 
finished  tying  up  the  parcels  for  some  time, 
and  he  was  now  pacing  back  and  forth 
within  the  circumscribed  limits  of  his  coun- 
ter, like  a  panther  in  its  cage,  and  his  face 
was  red  and  excited. 

Mr.  Hardy  was  leaning  against  a  barrel, 
with  his  umbrella  under  his  arm,  when,  at 
this  moment,  glancing  through  the  store 
to  the  street,  he  caught  sight  of  John 
Vance,  with  two  or  three  others,  passing 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way.  He  had 
known  Vance  for  some  time,  had  often  seen 
him  at  his  church  with  his  wife,  and  took  a 
good  deal  of  interest  in  the  bright,  manly 
young  machinist.  He  hastily  gathered  his 
bundles  from  the  counter,  took  a  firmer  grip 


Mr,  Hardy.  193 


with  his  arm  upon  the  umbrella,  and  saying, 
hastily,  "  I  beg  you  to  excuse  me,  my  dear 
sir,"  hurried  out  of  the  store  and  across  the 
street. 

"  Mr.  Vance,"  he  said,  as  he  overtook  the 
men,  "  can  I  speak  with  you  a  moment?" 
Early  in  the  day  as  it  was,  it  was  evident, 
from  his  face  and  manner,  that  Vance  had 
been  drinking,  but  he  stopped  at  once  as 
the  clergyman  addressed  him.  The  men 
with  him  also  stopped  and  stood  by  him. 

"  Go  ahead  there ! "  said  Vance  to  them, 
roughly;  "you're  not  wanted."  And,  with 
a  stare  at  Mr.  Hardy,  they  went  on. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Vance,"  said  the  minister, 
taking  no  notice  of  his  condition,  and  offer- 
ing his  hand,  "  I  wanted  to  see  you,  so  you 
will  excuse  my  stopping  you.  Will  you 
not  walk  on  with  me  a  little  way?"  he 
added. 

Vance,  suppressing  as  far  as  possible  any 


194      T^^^  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

signs  of  his  potations,  nodded  assent,  and, 
looking  a  little  askance  at  Mr.  Hardy, 
walked  slowly  by  his  side. 

"  I  fear  things  are  going  a  little  wrong 
with  3^ou,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  minister, 
after  they  had  gone  a  few  steps.  "  I  feel  a 
great  interest  in  you,"  he  continued,  "  and 
in  your  family,  and  would  like  to  help  you, 
if  I  could." 

"  I  know  of  nothing  you  can  do,  Mr. 
Hardy,"  said  Vance,  rather  sullenly. 

"Perhaps  not — perhaps  not,"  said  the 
minister,  "but  I  should  like  to  be  of  use,  if 
I  could.  Would  you  mind,"  he  added, 
after  a  pause,  "  my  saying  that  perhaps  3^ou 
are  not  taking  very  good  care  of  yourself 
just  now?  It  worries  your  wife  a  good 
deal,  you  know." 

"  Mr.  Hardy,"  said  Vance,  stopping  short, 
"  I  know  that.  But  what  would  you  do,  if 
you  wanted  to  work  and  couldn't,  and  saw 


Mr,  Hardy.  195 


everything  going  to  the  devil?  I  oughtn't 
to  go  on  as  I'm  doing;  but  I  might  as  well 
be  drunk  as  lying  on  my  back  doing  noth- 
ing, for  all  the  good  I  am  to  any  one." 

"No,  no!"  said  Mr.  Hardy,  earnestly. 
"  You  are  very  wrong  there.  A  man  gains 
nothing  by  giving  up  his  self-respect  and 
making  his  family  unhappy." 

The  minister  laid  his  hand  on  the  other's 
arm  as  he  spoke,  and  looked  kindly  in  his 
face  through  his  glasses. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  criticise  you  and  the 
others  for  staying  on  strike  —  that  you  must 
judge  of  for  yourselves.  But,  if  it  involves 
some  hardship  for  your  families,  I  do  know 
that  you  have  no  right  to  add  to  it  by 
giving  way  to  —  to  —  "  the  minister  hesi- 
tated, "  well,  this  sort  of  thing,  you  know^," 
he  finally  said. 

Vance  stood  still,  looking  soberly  on  the 
ground.    He  knew  Mr.  Hardy  well,  and  felt 


196      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

no  resentment  at  his  words,  whose  truth  he 
fully  admitted  to  himself. 

"  Come  up  to  my  house  this  afternoon, 
Mr.  Vance,"  continued  the  minister,  kindly, 
"  and  borrow  some  of  my  books.  They  say 
you  have  a  fine  talent  as  a  machinist,  and  I 
have  some  works  on  that  subject  that  will 
interest  you;  and  you  have  now  leisure  in 
which  to  read  them.  We  will  help  to  keep 
your  pot  boiling,  meanwhile. 

'^  Thank  you,  Mr.  Hardy,"  said  Vance, 
gratefully;  "I  will  come  and  get  them. 
You  are  a  good  man,  sir,  and  I  thank  you 
for  saying  what  you  have  to  me,"  he  added, 
as  Mr.  Hardy,  content  with  the  effect  of  his 
words,  shook  him  heartily  by  the  hand  and 
bade  him  good-bye. 

Vance  stood  where  the  minister  left  him, 
and  thoughtfully  watched  his  quaint,  faded 
black  figure,  with  its  slight  stoop,  going 
down  the  street.     He  saw  him  accosted  by 


M7\  Hardy.  197 


the  Catholic  priest,  a  few  doors  away,  who 
walked  on  with  him,  talking  earnestly,  and 
he  knew  that  the  two  good  men  were  con- 
certing as  to  how  the  want  and  suffering 
about  them  could  be  best  alleviated.  He 
thought  of  these  idle  weeks  and  groaned,  as 
often  before,  at  the  utter  hopelessness  of  the 
prospect  ahead.  Then  Mr.  Hardy's  words 
again  came  to  him,  and  he  thought  of  the 
wretched  use  he  had  made  of  his  idleness. 
The  sad  face  of  his  wife,  so  often  now  turn- 
ing from  him  to  hide  its  tears,  came  before 
him,  and  those  of  his  little  children,  that 
looked  into  his  own  with  such  uncon- 
sciousness of  evil  and  confidence  in  his 
goodness;  and  with  almost  a  sob  he  turned 
and  walked  slowly  homeward. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FATE    OF    THE    REACTION. 

nnHE  superintendent's  doubt  expressed 
to  Alston,  as  to  the  adherence  of  the 
men  to  their  resolution  of  returning,  was 
well  founded.  It  quickly  got  about  among 
the  strikers  that  afternoon  that  a  number 
had  promised  to  go  to  work  in  the  morning, 
and  the  leaders,  the  executive  committee 
and  their  following,  saw  that  unless  they 
acted  with  energy  there  would  result  a 
general  stampede  of  the  main  body,  the 
strike  would  be  practically  over,  and  their 
power  and  influence  ended.  A  meeting  of 
the  "  Associates  of  Toil  "  was  immediately 
called  for  that  evening,  and  they  used  every 
effort  of  persuasion,  and  almost  threats,  to 
198 


Fate  of  the  Reaction,  199 


secure  its  being  well  attended,  urging  that 
important  business  was  to  be  transacted. 

Darragh  was  away  from  the  town,  and 
these  men  had  entire  control  of  affairs. 

When  the  hour  arrived  the  hall  was 
packed.  There  was  considerable  sup- 
pressed excitement  among  the  members, 
and    loud    talk  was   heard  here   and  there. 

The  committee-man  Bradford  addressed 
the  meeting.  He  said  that  there  was  a 
rumor  that  some  of  the  members  proposed 
to  ffo  back  to  work  on  the  next  day.  The 
names  of  several  had  even  been  repeated  to 
him;  but  he  didn't  believe  it.  He  couldn't 
think  that  any  would  be  traitors  to  the 
noble  order  to  which  they  had  pledged 
themselves,  and  go  back  on  their  brothers 
in  this  way.  He  hoped  there  wasn't  any 
truth  in  the  report.  He  didn't  believe  there 
was  a  man  in  the  hall  who  would  do  such 
a  thing.     He  paused  and   looked   over  the 


200      The  Sti'ike  in  the  B Mill, 

audience  and  into  the  faces  of  many  men, 
whom  he  perfectly  well  knew  wanted  noth- 
ing else  half  so  much  as  to  do  just  this 
thing  if  they  dared.  He  concluded  b}^  say- 
ing that,  though  he  believed  nothing  of  it 
himself,  if  any  brother  did  know  of  such  a 
matter,  he  had  better  get  up  and  state  the 
facts. 

To  this  invitation  no  one,  at  first,  re- 
sponded, but,  after  an  interval  of  suspense, 
a  man  jumped  upon  the  platform. 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  that  Lane,  McDon- 
ald, Jake  McCarty,  Brooks,  and  a  lot  more 
that  I  can  name,  went  to  the  mill  and  talked 
with  old  Malcolm  to-day.  That  I  know. 
Perhaps,"  he  added,  "  they'll  be  knowing 
best  themselves  what  they  had  to  say  to 
him.     That's  all." 

A  low  murmur  arose  from  different  parts 
of  the  crowd.  One  of  the  men  named 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room.     "  Speak 


Fate  of  the  Reactiofi.  201 

up,  Lane!  "  shouted  a  man,  pointing  to  him. 
"  Tell  us  what  you  had  to  say  in  the  mill." 

Lane  looked  at  his  interlocutor  and 
caught  the  cruel  glitter  in  his  eye,  and 
then  glanced  here  and  there  among  the 
others.  He  was  cowed.  Feelinof  sure  that 
more  than  half  the  men  present  sympa- 
thized with  what  he  had  done,  he  dared  not 
avow  it.  From  no  one  did  he  meet  a  look 
of  encouragement,  and  there  was  nothing 
left  him  but  denial.  So  he  put  on  a  blus- 
tering air  and  exclaimed:  — 

"  I  done  nothinof  that  I'm  to  be  took  to 
task  for.  We  only  went  in  to  ask  when 
they  was  going  to  send  off  them  scabs." 

Every  man  in  the  hall  heard  him,  and  all 
knew  that  he  lied.  But  the  leaders  were 
satisfied.  Their  object  was  attained;  for 
the  doubtful  had  not  dared  to  speak,  and  it 
was  plainly  demonstrated  that,  at  present, 
at  least,  no  man   could  stand  up   and   defy 


202       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

the  decrees  of  the  order.  They  contented 
themselves  with  gently  admonishing  the 
brethren  generally,  and  Brother  Lane  and 
his  party  in  particular,  to  the  effect  that 
such  zeal  was  a  little  misplaced  and  that 
communication  w^ith  the  oppressor  could  be 
best  had  through  the  constituted  authorities 
of  the  order. 

Everything  now  went  very  smoothly. 
Other  speeches  were  made,  exhorting  the 
"Associates"  to  stand  firm,  and  assuring 
them  that  the  other  side  would  surely  back 
down.  Many  weeks  had  passed,  it  was 
true,  but  the  mill  could  not  hold  out  for- 
ever; that  more  assistance  had  been  voted 
them,  and  would  soon  be  received. 

An  eloquent  visiting  brother,  high  in  the 
confidence  of  the  order,  was  introduced, 
and  made  an  exceedingly  neat  address. 
He  was  glad  to  be  with  them,  he  said,  and 
to    congratulate    them   on    their    noble    and 


Fate  of  the  Reaction.  203 


long-sustained  contest  for  the  permanence 
and  welfare  of  the  order.  This  was  no 
sordid  fight  for  a  few  dollars   more   or  less. 

Not    at    all!      They   stood  in   F for   a 

great,  undying  principle,  and  they  would 
win  in  the  fight,  —  it  was  a  mere  matter 
of  time;  the  God  of  battles  would  sustain 
them  and  give  them  the  victory.  He  de- 
picted in  glowing  periods  the  might  and 
growth  of  the  order  throughout  this  great 
land,  and  closed  with  a  stirring  peroration, 
in  which  that  soulless  entity,  Capital,  was 
pictured  as  cowering  helpless  before  the 
serried  cohorts  of  triumphant  Labor. 

Some  of  the  audience  could  not  quite 
see  the  use  of  it  all,  or  trace  the  exact 
connection  of  things,  but  it  certainly  was 
very  fine;  and  when  a  personal  admirer 
of  the  brilliant  orator,  who  had  received 
his  cue,  moved  that  the  finance  committee 
be    authorized    to    pay    twenty-five    dollars 


204       The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 


from  the  funds  in  their  hands  towards  de- 
fraying the  brother's  travelling  expenses,  it 
was  voted  at  once,  in  spite  of  the  starving 
families  who  needed  the  money. 

The  anarchist  Kohler  finally  climbed 
upon  the  platform  and,  with  a  greasy  smile, 
went  on  with  some  of  his  characteristic 
drivel,  that,  to  do  the  audience  justice, 
proved  sufficiently  offensive  to  start  a 
movement   for  the  door. 

This  meeting  ended  the  break  among  the 
strikers  for  the  time.  Those  who  had  not 
been  present  heard  of  the  proceedings,  and 
all  were  intimidated.  No  ^^  Associates  of 
Toil "  appeared  at  the  mill  on  the  following 
morning. 

Mr.  Malcolm,  whose  patience  was  about 
exhausted,  wrote  a  line  to  Alston  in  which 
he  suggested  that  they  had  now  borne  with 
the  senseless  obstinacy  of  these  people  long 
enough,  and  it  was  high  time  that  energetic 


Fate  of  the  Reaction.  205 

steps  be  taken  to  secure  help  and  work  the 
mill  to  its  full  capacity,  in  the  interest  of 
the  stockholders.  Alston,  on  receiving  this 
note,  was  seriously  perplexed.  He  felt  that 
Mr.  Malcolm  was,  in  a  sense,  right,  and  yet 
he  had  hoped  so  long  that  the  operatives 
would  return,  and  take  the  wages  they  so 
sorely  needed,  that  he  could  not  bear  to  see 
that  done  that  would  absolutely  shut  them 
out. 

He  stood,  with  Mr.  Malcolm's  letter  in 
his  hand,  leaning  against  the  mantel-piece, 
and  looking  down  at  his  wife  with  such  a 
sombre  face  that  she  asked,  quickly:  — 

"  Why,  Ned,  dear,  what  is  it  that  troubles 
you  so  ? " 

"  Ada,"  he  replied,  ''  I  never  was  so 
bothered  before  i.n  my  life !  " 

''  It's  about  things  in  F ,  I  suppose," 

she  said. 

"  Yes,  I  had  hoped  they  were  beginning 


2o6      The  St7^ike  in  the  B MilL 

to  settle  themselves,  as  I  told  you;  but 
Malcolm  writes  that  the  movement  to  re- 
turn was  nipped,  and  there  the  thing  is, — 
going  on  as  badly  as  ever.  Malcolm  now 
insists  that  we  have  no  rio^ht  to  hold  thing^s 
open  for  the  strikers  any  longer,  in  justice 
to  the  stockholders.  I  am  willing  to  wait 
much  longer,  as  far  as  otw  interests  go,  and 
you  know  they  are  large." 

"Yes,"  she  said;  "we  both  have  a  good 
many  shares.  But  we  neither  of  us  care, 
if  there's  a  chance  of  the  people  coming 
back." 

"  That's  what  we  want,  darling,  of 
course,"  returned  her  husband,  "  but  there 
are  a  good  many  stockholders  who 
mightn't  feel  as  we  do  about  this,  and 
some,  perhaps,  who  can't  afford  to.  I  am 
really  afraid  that  I  may  not  be  properly  bal- 
ancing my  now  rather  conflicting  duties, 
—  to    the    stockholders,   on    one    side,    and 


Fate  of  the  Reaction,  207 

these  operatives,  on  the  other.  Regarded 
strictly  as  a  dtity^  the  latter  is  getting  rather 
shadowy,  to  say  the  least.  Malcolm  has 
felt  for  some  time  that  he  ought  to  make 
more  effort  to  get  outside  help,  but  I  have 
over-persuaded  him, — told  him  they  would 
be  back  directly,  and  all  that,  —  so  he  has 
continued  to  take  only  those  that  offered, 
as  from  the  beginning,  he  was  of  course, 
bound  to  do.  Now  he  insists,  and,  I  con- 
fess, I  am  in  great  doubt." 

''  Ned,"  said  his  wife,  "  do  not  desert  the 
cause  of  these  poor,  mistaken  people  quite 
yet.  Think,"  she  added,  gently,  "of  the 
long,  hard  winter  before  them.  Surely  they 
must  see  their  error  very  soon.  After  all 
your  interest  in  them,  wait  yet  a  little  lon- 
ger. Think  of  their  poor  little  children, 
Ned." 

As  the  young  wife  said  this,  she  arose, 
in    her    earnestness,    and   passed   her   hand 


2o8      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

through  her  husband's  arm,  looking  up  into 
his  face  with  pleading,  beautiful  eyes.  Als- 
ton gave  her  a  loving  look,  and  stroked  the 
little  hand  resting  on  his  armj  but  he  did 
not  speak. 

"  Ned,"  continued  his  wife,  "  if  you  can- 
not decide,  or  if  you  think  that  Mr.  Mal- 
colm is  not  inclined  to  do  as  we  wish,  why 
do  you  not  go  over  and  talk  with  Mr. 
Phillips?" 

Alston's  face  brightened.  "  That  is  a 
good  idea;  I  should  be  willing  to  trust  my 
judgment,  if  he  stood  by  it." 

"  Yes,  Ned,"  said  his  wafe,  gravely,  "  I 
think  he  is  a  man  of  most  excellent  judg- 
ment." 

"  Why,  dear,  how  can  you  judge  ?  you 
have  only  met  him  once  or  twice." 

"  Well,  he  has  impressed  me  very^  very 
favorably,"  she  insisted,  with  an  air  of  pro- 
found   conviction;    '^  and    I    am    not    often 


Fate  of  the  Reaction,  209 

deceived  in  people  —  see  how  quickly  and 
justly  he  estimated  you^  Ned,"  she  added, 
looking  thoughtfully  in  the  fire. 

Alston  turned  his  head  a  little  to  hide  a 
smile.  "I  will  go  round  to  the  club,"  he 
said,  "and  see  if  I  can  get  his  estimate  of 
this  question.  I  rather  agree  with  you 
about  Mr.  Phillips,"  he  added,  "though 
possibly  on  different  grounds." 

The  president  was  just  finishing  a  third 
rubber  when  Alston  looked  in  at  the  club. 
They  went  into  another  room,  and  he 
listened  to  Alston's  statement  of  the  posi- 
tion of  matters  and  his  doubts  as  to  the 
present  duty  of  the  company,  with  his  cus- 
tomary patient  and  rather  bored  manner. 

"  Been  going  on  now  nearly  six  weeks," 
he  remarked,  parenthetically,  when  Alston 
was  quite  through. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Alston. 

"  Should     hardly     say,"    continued    Mr. 


2IO      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

Phillips,  after  a  long  pause,  during  which 
he  scratched  his  cheek  reflectively,  that  a 
week  or  two  longer  could  ruin  us.  If  you 
hurry  too  much  it  might  ruin  a  good  many 
of  them." 

"Thafs  it  exactly,"  replied  Alston;  "that 
is  just  what  I  feel." 

"  WouldnH  hurry,  then,"  said  the  presi- 
dent. "  They'll  come  back  presently;  sick 
of  their  nonsense  now,  no  doubt,  but  takes 
time  to  screw  up  their  courage."  Mr. 
Phillips  looked  through  the  door-w^ay  to- 
ward the  whist-table,  and  begged  to  know 
if  Mrs.  Alston  were  quite  well. 

"  If  Malcolm  is  a  little  rusty,"  Alston 
asked,  as  they  parted,  "or  Hartw^ell  comes 
bothering  round,  —  he's  been  rather  fussy 
lately,  by  the  way,  about  the  slow  way  the 
mill  is  filling  up, —  I  may  use  your  name  in 
support  of  my  views,  may  I  not?" 

"  To  any  extent,"  replied  the  president. 


Fate  of  the  Reaction.  211 

"  I  told  you,  Ned,  that  it  was  quite  im- 
possible for  me  to  be  deceived  in  a  person 
whom  I  had  once  seen,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Alston,  decisively,  when  her  husband  had 
described  his  interview  with  Mr.  Phillips. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

AMONG   THE    PEOPLE. 

T^HE  wife  of  John  Vance  had  been 
much  alone  during  the  weeks-  of  the 
strike.  Though  without  occupation,  her 
husband  had  been  rarely  at  home  except  at 
meal  times,  and  not  always  then.  The  fatal 
habit  of  drink  had  been  fastening  itself 
upon  him,  and  he  had  at  length  become 
apparently  quite  indifferent  to  the  fate  of 
his  family  or  himself.  His  wages  were 
soon  gone  and  their  other  means  had  been 
for  some  time  exhausted. 

When  he  came  home  after  meeting  Mr. 
Hardy,  his  wife  noticed  that  he  seemed 
quite  sober,  and  his  face  looked  grave 
and  sad.  He  threw  himself  into  a  chair 
and  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand. 


Among'  the  People,  213 

"Well,  John,  what  is  the  prospect?"  said 
his  wife,  pleasantly. 

"  There  is  no  prospect,"  he  said,  dully. 
"  The  mill  is  gradually  filling  up  with  out- 
siders, though  slowly,  and,  unless  these 
roughs  scare  them  off,  we  shall  ourselves 
have  to  go  away  and  get  work  else- 
where." 

"Why  don't  3^ou  let  the  'Associates'  go," 
said  his  wife,  "  and  go  back  to  your  place  in 
the  shop?  You  can't  get  another  such 
good  place,  and  why  will  you  lose  it  for 
the  orders  of  Patrick  Murphy?  " 

"1  don't  dare  to  do  it  —  that's  the  plain 
truth  about  it,  Mary.  I've  tried  it  once  and 
dropped  it.  You  don't  know  the  tyranny 
of  this  thing.  I  and  a  great  many  others  — 
the  most  of  us,  I  believe  —  wanted  to  do 
as  Darragh  said.  You  know  how  it  was; 
we'd  been  workinor  alons^  with  those  non- 
union  men  before,  and  we   didn't  see   why 


214      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

we  couldn't  again.  But  Murphy  and  Brad- 
ford, and  their  set,  crowded  into  the  meet- 
ing, and  huggermuggered  and  frightened 
the  vote  through,  and  that  settled  it.  You 
know  all  about  it.  The  roughs  all  hang 
together,  and  the  good  men  don't  know 
whom  to  trust,  and  dare  not  speak  out;  we 
tried  the  other  day,  but  gave  it  up.  I  wish 
to  God,"  he  added,  gloomily,  "  the  '  Asso- 
ciates of  Toil '  had  never  been  got  up.  It'll 
be  the  ruin  of  us  all,  yet." 

"  Why,"  asked  his  wife,  "  do  these  kind 
of  men  get  so  much  power  in  the  order? 
Why  do  you  make  them  the  committee?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,  exactly;  but,  some- 
how, the  bummers  always  seem  to  figure  to 
get  the  control  in  these  things.  The  quiet 
men,  the  good  workmen,  never  seem  to 
have  the  time  to  get  elected  to  office.  And 
when  these  men  get  in,  they  manage  to 
hold    on.       It's     something     like     politics, 


Among  the  People,  215 

where  about  the  same  thing  happens,  I 
should  think." 

"  You'd  be  treated  as  a  scab,  John,  if  you 
should  go  to  work,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  worse.  I  should  have  to  leave 
here  if  I  want  to  get  to  work  again.  If  I 
could  get  a  little  money  to  move  us,  I 
would  cut  the  whole  concern,  give  up  my 
trade,  and  try  and  hire  a  little  farm  some- 
where. I  used  to  think  that  the  '  Associates 
of  Toil'  was  a  big  thing;  but  now,  I 
only  want  to  get  out  of  its  reach  as  far 
as  I   can  !  " 

As  he  spoke,  his  wife  came  to  him  and 
put  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "John,"  she 
said,  "  I  always  wished  that  you  would 
come  and  live  in  my  place.     Let's  go  down 

to    N ,  to    father's    farm.      It's    a   good 

time  now,  and  he'll  be  glad  to  send  us  a 
little  money  to  bring  us,  and  have  you  help 
him.     Then  you  can  see  what  you  want  to 


2i6      The  SU'ike  in  the  B AlilL 

do  up  there.  You  can  work  a  little  farm 
on  the  mountain,  or  leave  us  with  father 
and  log  it  this  winter,  and  decide  later. 
Now  do^  John.  Let  me  write  father  to- 
day. I  always  disliked  this  life,  and  I  hate 
it  worse  than  ever  now." 

He  thought  a  moment  or  two,  with  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  floor. 

"Well,  write!"  he  said,  at  last.  "We 
can  try  it.  I'm  tired  of  this  thing,  anyhow. 
I  want  to  be  my  own  man  again.  You 
write,  Mary,  and  I'll  post  the  letter  to- 
day." 

"I  will,"  his  wife  said,  joyfully;  "right 
off  now."  And,  clearing  the  table,  she, 
after  much  trouble  to  find  writing  materials, 
seated  herself  to  the  task. 

Her  husband  seemed  to  think  it  occupied 
much  time,  for  he  smoked  a  pipe  out  and 
walked  about  the  room  with  the  nervous 
impatience  of  one  who  has  but  lately  been 


Among"  the  People,  217 

drinking  hard  and  begins  to  feel  the  physi- 
cal reaction. 

"You  must  be  writing  a  long  one,  Mary," 
he  at  last  said,  stopping  in  front  of  her. 

"Well,  it's  done,  at  last,"  she  answered; 
and,  folding  and  directing  the  letter,  she 
gave  it  to  him.  "  Now,"  she  continued, 
"  we  shall  have  an  answer  within  a  week, 
and  then  we'll  go.  I'll  be  all  ready  to  start. 
Stay  of  the  same  mind,  whatever  happens; 
won't  you,  John?  And  John, — "  she  hesi- 
tated a  little,  "  dear  John,  don't  keep  on 
drinking.  You  don't  know  how  unhappy 
that's  made  me,  with  the  strike  and  all;  — 
and  now,  our  deciding  this  makes  me 
happier  to-night  than  I've  been  since  we 
were  married.  Just  think  how  the  chil- 
dren will  like  the  country.  And  we'll  all 
be  happier  and  better  off."  She  reached  up 
and  kissed  him,  with  a  tear  in  her  eye.  He 
bent    down     and    returned    her    kiss,    then 


2i8      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

straightened  his  tall  figure,  and  a  look  of 
resolution  came  into  his  handsome  face. 

"  I  have  been  a  brute,  Mary,"  he  said; 
^'  but,  after  the  first  day  or  two  of  the  strike, 
I  saw  how  things  were  going,  and  drank 
hard  because  I  felt  bad  about  it:  —  and  I 
didn^'t  want  to  say  anything  to  you  about 
things  because  I  was  angry  and  ashamed  of 
the  whole  business."  His  wife  pressed  his 
arm  sympathetically. 

"  I  know,  John,"  she  said  —  "I  under- 
stood how  you  felt;  but  it  wasn't  quite  the 
way  to  help  things,  you  know." 

"  No,  Mary,  it  wasn't,  and  I  knew  it. 
Mr.  Hardy  came  along  and  spoke  to  me 
this  morning,  and  it  sent  me  home  almost 
crying,  Mary.  My  mind  is  made  up  — 
you've  decided  on  the  right  thing.  And  if 
the  strike  ended  to-morrow,  we'll  stick  to 
this  plan  just  the  same." 

"  I  must  have  a  nipper  or  two  this  morn- 


Among  the  People,  2i< 


ing,"  he  continued,  "  for  see  how  my  hand 
trembles;  but  I'll  come  home  all  right,  never 
fear.  After  to-day,  not  a  drop.  To-morrow 
we'll  get  ready  to  pull  up  and  go." 

Mary  Vance  looked  a  little  anxious,  but 
concealed  it,  like  a  sensible  little  woman; 
for  she  knew  her  husband's  easy-going 
nature  contained  an  element  of  strong  reso- 
lution that  asserted  itself  at  times,  and  she 
believed  it  had  now  possessed  him.  So  she 
let  him  go  with  a  smiling  injunction  to  be 
home  punctually  to  dinner  —  "  though  it 
isn't  much  we  have,"  she  said,  with  another 
smile;  her  happiness  at  the  future  now  open- 
ing again  so  brightly,  making  her  careless 
of  the  present  hardships  of  their  situa- 
tion. 

As  her  husband  went  down  the  stairs,  she 
went  quickly  to  the  other  room,  where  the 
children  were  playing,  and,  stooping,  seized 
them  both  in  her  arms  with  an  energy  that 


2  20       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

rather  startled  them;  murmuring,  as  she 
kissed  them  again  and  again,  "  Papa  will 
pretty  soon  take  you  away  to  such  a  nice 
place,  darlings;  and  we'll  be  so  much  hap- 
pier, all  of  us." 

In  an  upstairs  tenement  of  a  large  old 
wooden  house  on  one  of  the  narrowest  and 

most  thickly   inhabited    streets    in  F a 

woman  was  lying  ill. 

The  house  was  full  of  people;  families 
occupying  two  or  three  rooms,  and  the  hall- 
ways being  used  in  common. 

The  two  rooms  in  one  of  which  was  the 
sick  woman  were  uncarpeted  and  but  scant- 
ily furnished;  the  room  in  which  she  laid 
containing  little  else  than  the  bed  and  a 
chair  or  two. 

The  sick  woman  was  alone.  Her  face 
was  flushed  with  fever,  and  she  tossed  from 
side  to  side,  moaning  feebly  at  intervals. 


Among  the  People.  221 

On  a  stand  by  the  bed  was  water  and  a 
vial  of  medicine. 

The  room  would  have  been  utterly  forlorn 
and  gloomy  but  for  the  rays  of  the  sun  that, 
shining  brightly  over  the  fields  and  woods 
outside  of  the  village,  did  not  refuse  their 
kindly  radiance  within  it,  and  shone  pleas- 
antly through  the  uncurtained  window  and 
across  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"Will  they  never  come?"  murmured  the 
woman,  as  her  restlessness  increased,  and 
her  thin  hand,  thrown  from  the  covering, 
picked  nervously  at  the  blanket.  "Will 
they  never  come?"  she  repeated. 

At  this  moment  a  little  girl  came  in  from 
the  outer  room.  An  old  shawl  held  about 
her  head  fell  over  and  partly  concealed  her 
shabby  dress,  while  her  poor  little  bare  feet 
showed  in  places  through  her  worn  shoes. 

"Is  that  you,  Annie?"  asked  the  woman, 
faintly. 


22  2       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

The  child  came  to  the  bedside. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  An'  the  priest 
said  he'd  cotne  directly  to  see  you.  Have 
some  water,  mammy?" 

The  woman  shook  her  head,  and  the  girl 
pulled  off  her  shawl,  and,  drawing  a  chair 
near  to  the  bed,  seated  herself,  and  watched 
her  mother  with  the  grave,  steady  look  of  a 
child. 

"Where's  the  father,  Annie,  and  Johnny?" 
asked  her  mother,  after  a  while. 

"  They're  out  on  the  street  somewheres," 
answered  the  child.  "  Will  I  go  to  find 
'em?" 

"No  matter,"  said  the  woman;  "what 
good  would  it  do  ?  —  but  why  don't  Father 
Shannon  come?  " 

"  Will  I  go  down  to  the  dure  and  watch 
for  'im  ?  "  asked  the  child  again,  with  the  same 
mechanical  readiness  to  be  of  use,  and  still 
watching  her  mother  with  her  quiet  gaze. 


Among  the  People.  223 

"  No,"  said  the  woman,  striking  her  hand 
with  feeble  motion  on  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"  There's  some   one,"  said   the  girl,  as  a 
light   knock    sounded    on    the    outer    door. 
"Will  I  see  who  it  is?" 
^     "  Yes  —  maybe  it's  the  priest." 

The  child  went  out,  and  returned  presently 
with  one  whom  the  sick  woman  regarded 
with  a  disappointed  look. 

"  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me  for  coming 
in,"  said  Ellen  Hardy,  for  it  was  she;  "  but 
they  told  me  downstairs  that  some  one  was 
sick  here,  and  your  little  girl  has  let  me  in. 
I  want  to  do  something  for  you  if  you  will 
let  me." 

"  Give  the  lady  a  chair,  Annie,"  said  the 
sick  woman,  with  an  instinctive  courtesy 
that  overcame  her  sense  of  suffering.  "  It's 
little  you  can  do,  ma'am,  thanking  you 
kindly,"  she  went  on,  with  a  weak  voice. 
"  I'm  fearful  that  I'm  struck  with  death." 


2  24      ^'^^^  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

"  I  hope  it  is  not  as  bad  as  that,"  said 
Ellen,  gently.  "  When  was  the  doctor  here, 
Annie  ?|"  she  asked  the  little  girl,  who  stood 
looking  in  her  face  with  frank  admiration. 

'^  Not  since  yisterday  morning,  ma'am," 
answered  the  child.  '^  We'd  no  money  to 
pay,"  she  added,  dr3dy,  with  that  entire  com- 
prehension of  the  family  trials  common  in 
children  so  situated,  "  and  maybe  he'll  not 
come  again." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Ellen.  "He  is  a  good 
man,  and  will  not  forget  you." 

She  bent  over  the  woman,  who  was  now 
more  quiet,  and,  with  the  little  girl's  assist- 
ance, adjusted  the  pillows  more  comfortably; 
and,  wetting  a  linen  cloth,  laid  it  upon  the 
sick  woman's  forehead. 

While  she  was  busy  taking  some  things 
from  her  basket,  and  questioning  the  child 
as  to  what  her  mother  needed,  she  became 
aware  of  the  presence  of  another  person,  and, 


Among  the  People,  225 

looking  up,  saw  that  Father  Shannon  stood 
in  the  door-way. 

He  was  a  clear-eyed,  benevolent-looking 
man,  with  the  usual  smoothly  shaven  face 
of  his  profession. 

"  I  knocked,  but  no  one  heard,"  he  said, 
politely,  "  so  I  ventured  to  enter  unan- 
nounced. I  hope  I  do  not  intrude.  Miss 
Hardy?" 

"No,  sir,"  she  replied,  rising;  "I  am  the 
intruder,  if  it  be  anyone.  I  think  you  will 
be  very  welcome  to  our  poor  friend  here." 

The  clergyman  bowed  and  approached 
the  bedside. 

"  Good-morning,  my  daughter,"  he  said, 
taking  the  sick  woman's  hand.  "  You  sent 
for  me.     Are  3^ou  very  ill  ?  " 

Ellen  took  the  little  girl's  hand,  and  they 
went  into  the  next  room,  where  she  gave 
her  some  directions  as  to  her  mother's  care, 
and,  leaving  her  a  little  money,  she  promised 


226       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

to  come  on  the  following  day.  "  You  are  a 
very  little  nurse,  to  be  sure,  but  you  must 
do  the  best  you  can,"  she  said,  cheerily,  as 
she  went  away. 

On  the  steps  of  the  house  were  several 
men,  smoking  and  talking,  who  respectfully 
made  v^ay  for  her.  The  narrow  street, 
lined  with  tenement  houses,  was  alive  with 
people.  The  men  sat  in  the  door-ways  or 
leaned  from  the  open  windows  in  their 
shirt-sleeves,  though  the  November  air 
was  keen,  while  those  women  not  busy 
indoors  stood  about  gossiping  in  low  voices, 
unlike  their  ordinary  hearty  clamor.  All 
were  idle,  and  looked  unhappy  and  dis- 
contented. Signs  of  want  w^ere  every- 
where visible,  and  not  a  few  adult  faces 
looked  pinched  and  hungry. 

Sadder  than  all  else  was  the  unusual 
quiet  of  the  children  that  were  about  in  the 
streets  and  yards,  and   Ellen's   heart  ached 


Among  the  People.  227 

that  these  little  irresponsible  beings  should 
suffer  from  no  fault  of  their  own.  That,  by 
the  law  of  natural  authority,  they  might 
have  to  endure  hunger,  nay,  even  die  of 
want,  because  the  parent  so  willed  it,' with- 
out being  able  to  understand  the  reason  why, 
or  having  the  power  to  help  themselves. 

Many  knew  Ellen  as  she  passed,  and 
saluted  her  with  grateful  and  affectionate 
emphasis.  With  some  she  stopped  and 
spoke,  and  entered  several  other  houses  to 
relieve  particular  distress  of  which  she  knew. 

In  this  and  other  similar  localities,  she 
had  for  many  weeks  spent  the  greater  part 
of  her  time,  believing  that  she  could  herself 
best  and  least  offensively  dispense  the  aid 
at  her  command. 

Her  father,  who  was  familiar  with  these 
people  of  old,  could  not  often  accompany 
her,  their  joint  labors  requiring  effort  in  dif- 
ferent directions  to  cover  the  ground. 


2  28      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

As  Ellen  reached  the  end  of  the  little 
street,  on  her  way  elsewhere,  the  familiar 
carriage  of  the  village  doctor  went  by  on 
the  main  street.  As  the  doctor  bowed, 
Ellen  motioned  to  him,  and  he  drew  his 
sulky  to  the  sidewalk,  and  looked  down  on 
her  with  his  shrewd,  weather-beaten  face, 
seamed  with  the  wrinkles  of  years  of  night 
work,  and  brown  with  constant  exposure  to 
the  elements. 

"  I  hope  you  don't  need  my  professional 
services,  Ellen  ?  "  he  said,  with  the  kindly 
familiarity  of  one  who  had  officiated  at  her 
birth  and  had  known  her  ever  since.  "  But 
you  don't  look  it,  exactly,"  he  continued; 
"  your  missionary  work  seems  to  agree  with 
you." 

"No,  doctor,"  said  Ellen;  "but  a  poor 
woman,  in  the  last  house  on  the  left,  whom 
I  just  saw,  is  very  sick,  and  they  seemed  to 
fear  you  were  not  coming  again." 


Among  the  People,  229 


"That's  just  their  ingratitude!  "  said  the 
doctor,  sharply.  "  I  told  them  I  should  be 
in  again  to-day,  and  I  sent  that  woman  her 
medicine,  and  paid  for  it  myself!  I  am 
very  much  driven,  and  have  to  get  around 
to  them  as  I  can." 

*'  I  knew,  of  course,"  said  Ellen,  "  that 
you  never  deserted  a  patient.  But  don't 
blame  the  woman.     She  said  nothinof." 

"  Oh,  I'm  used  to  them,"  said  the  doctor, 
easily,  and  with  no  trace  of  his  momentary 
irritation;  "I've  learned  not  to  mind  it. 
Some  of  these  folks  are  so  suspicious  that 
the}^  cannot  seem  to  understand  that  any 
one  can  act  disinterestedly.  I'll  see  our 
friend  in  an  hour  or  two.     Her  case  is  not 


urgent. 


"Thanks,  doctor,"  said  Ellen;  "I  knew 
that  it  was  all  right  with  you." 

"  Well,  Ellen,"  said  the  doctor,  gathering 
up    the    reins,  "  I'm   just    driven    to    death. 


230      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

There's  a  great  deal  of  sickness  among 
these  people,  as  you  know,  arising  largely 
from  insufficient  nutrition,  and  I  am  sadl}' 
overworked." 

The  doctor  chirped  to  his  horse,  then 
drew  him  up  and  leaned  over  towards  Ellen 
with  a  grim  smile.  "  I  wish,"  he  said, 
"  these  fellows  would  boycott  me.  That's 
what  I  want.  If  they  don't  do  it,  I  may 
have  to  go  on  strike  myself,  to  save  my  life. 
Good-bye."  And,  loosening  his  rein,  he 
went  rattling  down  the  street. 

Father  Shannon,  sitting  by  the  bedside  of 
the  sick  w^oman,  talked  with  her  in  his 
gentle,  encouraging  voice. 

"Father,"  said  the  woman,  "I'm  very 
sick;  I  want  the  offices  of  the  church." 

He  looked  in  her  face,  and  felt  her  pulse. 
He  was  so  familiar  with  sickness,  this  good 
friar,  that  he  had  acquired  no  mean  skill  in 
judging  of  the  condition  of  a  patient. 


Among  the  People,  231 

"  Not  yet,  I  think,  my  daughter,"  he  said, 
after  a  pause;  "you  are  not  as  ill  as  3^ou 
imagine.  We  will  have  you  well  again, 
with  the  help  of  the  Blessed  Virgin." 

She  was  too  weak  to  argue  with  him, 
but,  from  her  hopeless  look  and  the  impa- 
tient motion  of  her  hand  on  the  bed-cover- 
ing, it  was  evident  that  she  did  not  believe 
him.     She  remained  silent  a  moment. 

"  Come  to-morrow  again,"  she  at  last 
said;  "  I  may  need  you  then." 

"  I  will  come  every  day,  my  daughter, 
and,  meanwhile,  I  must  send  you  some 
comforts." 

"  Miss  Hardy  will  take  care  of  that,"  she 
answered;  "  they  say  she  never  leaves  one 
when  she's  found  they  need  her.  Too 
much  must  not  come  to  one  place,"  she 
added,  speaking  with  difficulty  in  her  desire 
for  the  good  of  others.  "  There's  terrible 
need  all  about,  father;  and  there'll  be  more." 


232       The  Strike  ift  the  B Mill. 

''Yes — I  know  it,"  said  he,  sadly.  ''The 
church,"  he  added,  "  does  not  approve  of 
this  order  that  is  making  the  trouble;  and 
the  displeasure  of  the  Holy  See  weighs  on 
my  conscience  for  you  all,  even  as  I  feel 
your  bodily  sufferings." 

"Ah,  father,"  said  the  sick  woman,  in  a 
stronger  voice,  that  trembled  with  excite- 
ment, "  I'd  not  like  to  say  it  to  my  man,  but 
this  '  Associates '  is  like  to  do  us  all  out. 
It's  what's  being  the  death  of  me;  and  the 
childer  starvin',  too.  Can't  you  talk  to  the 
man.  Father  Shannon?"  she  added,  with  a 
hysterical  sob. 

"There,  you  must  not  excite  yourself, 
my  daughter.  I  have  done  what  I  could; 
but  the  order  seems  stronger  than  the 
church  just  now.  I  must  not  strain  my 
influence  too  far  with  my  people,  in  a 
matter  not  yet  formally  placed  under  the 
ban." 


Ainong  the  People,  233 

The  clergyman  rose.  "  I  must  go  now," 
he  said;  "may  God's  blessing  be  upon  3^ou, 
my  daughter.  I  will  pray  that  he  may  soon 
restore  you.  You  shall  want  for  nothing, 
and  I  will  see  you  to-morrow." 


.    CHAPTER   IX. 

''  FIAT  JUSTITIA,"    ETC. 

TI)RAYTON  called  one  morning  at  the 
parsonage,  just  after  breakfast,  and  told 
Ellen  that  he  was  coming  presently  to  take 
her  to  the  farm  to  spend  the  day  with  his 
mother. 

"You  must  have  a  day  off,"  he  said. 
"You  are  spending  so  much  time  in  this 
charitable  work  that  it  will  begin  to  wear 
upon  you,  if  you  do  not  have  a  rest." 

"Come,"  he  insisted,  as  she  demurred; 
"  get  some  one  to  take  charge  of  your  pa- 
tients, as  the  doctors  do,  and  let  me  have 
my  way." 

"  Where  are  you  going  now,  George  ? " 
she  asked. 

"Just  down   to   the  police   station  a  mo- 
234 


''Fiat  Just iti a,''  Etc.  235 


ment,"  he  answered;  ''  then  I  will  drive  you 
out  and  come  back,  as  I  wish  to  be  present 
later  at  the  trial  of  three  or  four  scamps, 
who  hustled  a  man  at  the  depot  yesterday." 

"Well,"  she  said,  "if  you  will  drop  one 
or  two  things  for  me  down  street,  I  can 
perhaps  manage  to  go,  —  for  I  would  like 
to,  George,"  she  added,  with  a  smile. 

"All  right,"  he  replied;  "I  can  do  it. 
Are  they  ready  now  ?  " 

"In  a  moment!"  When  she  gave  them 
to  him,  it  was  with  such  voluminous  direc- 
tions that  he  said  he  really  wished  she 
would  send  a  boy  along  to  do  his  thinking 
for  him. 

He  succeeded  fairly  well,  however,  and 
was  back  in  a' few  minutes;  and  his  fast 
trotting  mare  took  Ellen  very  quickly  to  the 
farm,  which  she  reached  with  the  color  in 
her  cheeks  deepened  and  eyes  brightened 
by  the  rapid  motion  through  the  frosty  air. 


236      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

When,  a  little  later,  Brayton  reached  the 
room  where  the  trial  justice  held  his  court, 
he  was  obliged  to  elbow  his  way  through  a 
considerable  crowd,  composed  mainly  of 
striking  mill  operatives,  some  of  whom 
scowled  at  him  as  he  passed,  —  for  the 
more  turbulent  among  them  were  beginning 
to  find  that  he  was  the  mainspring  of  the 
strong  police  supervision  of  their  move- 
ments, and  the  repeated  arrest  and  punish- 
ment of  those  caught  in  mischief. 

As  he  pushed  forward,  his  strong  shoul- 
der impinged  with  considerable  force 
against  a  softer  but  heavier  body  than  his 
own,  and  a  guttural  German  execration  ap- 
prised him  of  the  presence  of  the  Anarchist, 
who  looked  around  at  him  with  a  snarl. 

" Ach  —  damnable  Capitalist!  Tyrant!" 
said  the  fellow.  "  Of  yourself  have  a 
care ! " 

Brayton  brought  his  hand  down  squarely 


"Fiat  Justitia,^'  Etc.  237 


on  the  fat  shoulder  before  him,  and  with  a 
quiet  but  powerful  twist  turned  his  man 
completely  around,  and,  pointing  to  the 
door,  said:  "Do  you  see  that  door?  go  out 
of  it  —  or  I'll  have  you  in  the  lock-up  in 
two  minutes!  " 

The  apostle  of  fire  and  blood  looked  at 
him,  and  shuffled  out  of  the  room. 

Brayton  spoke  to  the  chief  of  his  police, 
who  was  in  the  room.  "  It  is  high  time," 
he  said,  "that  fellow  was  out  of  town. 
Watch  him  with  great  care,  and  upon  the 
least  occasion  lock  him  up.  He  is  getting 
bold,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was 
hatching  some  mischief." 

"  Well,  sir,"  returned  the  officer,  "  he  is  a 
sly  one.  I've  been  watching  him  all  along, 
but  can't  get  hold  of  anything.  I  think, 
with  you,  that  he  and  some  others  will  be 
up  to  something  before  long." 

The   evidence   against  the   men   on    trial 


238      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

was  conclusive,  and  the  worthy  justice, 
though  rather  a  plain  man  and  not  very 
learned  in  the  law,  was  not  much  obfus- 
cated by  the  eloquent  argument  of  the 
young  lawyer  who  appeared  for  the  pris- 
oners, and  who  had  the  misfortune  of  hav- 
ing neither  the  law  or  the  facts  with  him. 

His  appeals  to  the  Bill  of  Rights,  and 
waving  of  the  stars  and  stripes,  in  startling 
metaphor,  were  unavailing,  though  highly 
appreciated  by  the  crowd,  and  the  prison- 
ers were  found  guilty  and  the  court-room 
cleared. 

As  Brayton  was  going  down  the  steps,  he 
was  joined  by  Alston,  who  had  come  over 
from  the  mill  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of 
the  gathering  of  people. 

"  You  seem  to  have  a  good  many  of 
these  affairs  to  look  after,"  said  he  to  Bray- 
ton, as  they  shook  hands. 

"Yes,"  answered  Brayton,  "the  cowardly 


''Fiat  Jiistitia^^  Etc,  239 

cruelty  of  some  of  these  men  is  inconceiv- 
able. If  a  man  is  a  '  scab/  they  seem  to 
think  it  the  duty  of  the  ^Associates  of  Toil' 
to  pound  him,  kick  him  in  the  face,  and 
stamp  on  him,  six  or  eight  against  one. 
It  is  a  very  bad  organization,  I  think,  Mr. 
Alston." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  is,"  replied  Alston. 

"  See,"  said  Bra3'ton,  "  those  men  over  on 
the  corner  watching  us.  They  belong  to 
the  gang  that  are  the  cause  of  the  continu- 
ance of  this  trouble.  I  venture  to  say  that 
not  more  than  a  hundred  men  are,  in  this 
town  to-da}^,  keeping  more  than  two  thou- 
sand people  on  the  verge  of  starvation, 
through  the  machinery  of  this  wretched 
order." 

"Yes;  it  illustrates  the  danger  of  men 
rushing  unthinkingly  into  such  combina- 
tions," said  Alston.  "What  is  going  to 
bring  this  great  majority  to  their  senses,  — 


240      The  Strike  in  the  B AlilL 

emancipate  them  from  their  thraldom,  and 
let  them  go  to  work,  as  they  wish?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Brayton.  "  It 
may  come  about  in  some  very  disagreeable 
way,  I'm  afraid.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Als- 
ton, that  a  dynamite  cartridge  was  found 
under  the  wall  of  the  south  tenement  last 
night !  The  fuse  had  gone  out,  or  there 
miofht  have  been  a  hole  made  in  the 
building." 

"The  superintendent  told  me  of  it  this 
nfiorning,"  said  Alston.  "  What  shall  you 
do  about  it? " 

"We  have  arranged  to  picket  the  place 
hereafter  so  carefully,"  said  Brayton,  "  that 
a  rat  cannot  get  there,  night  or  day,  without 
being  seen.  Say  nothing  of  it,"  he  added, 
"  as  it  is  not  well  to  alarm  people  too 
much." 

Brayton  was  untying  his  mare  from  the 
post  to  which  she  was  hitched. 


^'Fiat  Jusiitia^^  Etc,  241 

"  Will  you  take  me,"  asked  Alston,  "  as 
far  as  the  top  of  the  street  with  you." 

"Certainly;  get  right  in." 

"  That  is  a  very  pretty  stepper,"  said 
Alston,  admiring  Brayton's  horse. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "she  can  easily 
beat  2:30,  though  she  has  not  been  on  a 
track  for  some  time.  By  the  way,"  he  went 
on,  "  I  looked  over  that  saddle-horse  of 
yours,  in  the  tavern  stable,  last  week.  I 
think  I  never  saw  better  quarters  or  finer 
limbs  on  a  horse  of  his  size;  he  must  be 
much  over  your  weight,  I  should  think. 
Can  he  jump  ?  " 

"Jump!  "  exclaimed  Alston.  "  If  he  was 
feeling  in  the  mood,  I  think  he'd  attempt 
the  church  over  there.  Nothing  seems  to 
daunt  him.  But  he  is  hardly  the  animal  I'd 
like  to  lend  our  old  friend  Mr.  Hardy  to 
take  his  exercise  on.  Ah!"  he  added,  as 
he  saw  Father  Shannon    on    the    sidewalk, 


242       The  Stj'ike  in  the  B JMilL 

''  there's  that  excellent  priest,  and  I  \\^x\t  to 
see  him  a  moment.  Just  drop  me  here, 
will  you;  —  thanks!"  He  jumped  from  the 
carriao^e.     "  Good-morninor." 

"  Good-morning,"  said  Brayton,  as  he 
shook  the  reins  and  went  swiftly  home- 
wards. 

"  Well,  Father  Shannon,"  said  Alston,  as 
the  clergyman  approached  him,  "  your  rev- 
erence is  the  second  priest  I've  seen  within 
the  hour.  The  black-coats  seem  to  be 
abroad  this  morning." 

"  We  have  much  to  keep  us  abroad  these 
days,  Mr.  Alston." 

"Yes,"  Alston  went  on;  "I  saw  Mr. 
Hardy  going  down  the  street  by  the  mill,  a 
while  ago,  with  a  philanthropic  glitter  in  his 
eye,  evidently  bent  on  doing  good,  in  spite 
of  the  flesh  and  the  devil;  and  here  you  are 
prowling  around,  with  much  the  same 
benevolent    expression.       Upon    my    word, 


''Fiat  Jiistitia^''  Etc,  243 

Father  Shannon,  I  am  learning  better  than 
ever  before  what  clergj^men  are  good  for! 
I  have  hitherto  rather  regarded  them  as 
drones  in  the  hive  —  like  myself,  for  ex- 
ample." 

The  priest  smiled  good-humoredly.  "All 
the  drones,  then,"  he  said,  "  seem  to  have 
been  aroused,  lately." 

"How  are  the  supplies  holding  out?" 
asked  Alston.  "Don't  you  want  some  more 
money?  I  can  do  little  but  aid  you  in  that 
way;  but  I  can't  see  these  blockheads 
starve." 

"  You  are  very  good,  Mr.  Alston — " 

"Oh,  bosh!  "  interrupted  Alston.  "I  beg 
your  pardon  —  but  I  cannot  forget  that,  if 
it  had  not  been  for  our  niggardliness  in  the 
first  place,  this  strike  would  not  have  taken 
place  at  all." 

The  sky  had  clouded,  and  it  began  to 
sprinkle.     Alston  begged  the  priest  to  open 


244      "^^^^  Strike  in  the  B JMilL 

his  umbrella,  and  let  him  share  the  sacerdo- 
tal shelter,  as  he  expressed  it. 

"  You  see/'  he  continued,  as  they  went 
together  down  the  street,  "  I  could  hardly, 
squeeze  out  quite  as  much  money  alone,  but 
I  get  some  help,  out  of  my  friends,  on 
vague  charitable  pretexts.  I  am  beginning 
to  be  regarded  among  them  as  rather  a 
crank.  Yesterday  I  actually  wiggled  a 
fifty  out  of  old  Hartwell." 

"  From  your  treasurer,  Mr.  Alston  ?  " 

"  ^  The  divil  a  less  '  —  saving  your  rever- 
ence's presence.  He  is  quite  unaware  of 
my  absurdities  here,  and  the  destination  of 
this  money.  I  fear  he  would  burst  a  blood- 
vessel, if  he  knew  of  it." 

"  Is  it  quite  right,"  asked  the  clergyman, 
"  that  he  should  contribute  in  ignorance  of 
the  object?" 

"Well,  I  must  leave  that  to  you  church 
casuists    to    settle,"   said    Alston,    laughing. 


''Fiat  Just  it  i  a  ^''  Etc,  245 

''  I  have  somewhere  heard  the  maxim, 
'  Finis  coi'onat  opus^  and  should  say  it 
rather  applied  here." 

"  Come,  Father  Shannon,"  he  added, 
holding  out  a  fifty-dollar  bill,  "  let  this,  in 
your  hands,  do  as  much  good  as  possible, 
and  do  not  leave  me  to  bear  my  sin   alone. 

The  clergyman  took  the  money  thought- 
fully. "  Perhaps  the  good  God  will  not  im- 
pute this  to  you  as  a  sin,"  he  said,  rever- 
ently. "  If  it  be  one,  I  will  have  to  share 
it  with  you,  for  the  sake  of  the  suffering 
it  will  relieve." 

"  Let  me  know  when  you  need  more," 
said  Alston.  "  Don't  be  bashful.  I  don't 
know  how  much  longer  this  thing  is  going 
to  last,  but  I  am  in  for  it  now.  My  money 
came  to  me  easily,  and  it  don't  hurt  me  to 
lose  some;  nor  my  friends,  either." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  priest;  "you  have 
done     much.     What     these    people    would 


246      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

have  done,  indeed,  without  your  aid,  I 
cannot  say.  There  is  great  suffering,  as 
it   is." 

They  had  reached  the  mill  gate,  and  Als- 
ton stopped.  The  clergyman  looked  at  his 
companion  with  kindly  eyes. 

"  The  prayers  of  the  church,"  he  said, 
solemnly,  "  will  go  up  for  you,  my  friend, 
for  your  goodness  to  its  people." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Alston,  embarrassed,  and 
a  little  moved  by  the  priest's  earnestness,  as 
he  left  him. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    SITUATION. 

'HE   condition    of  affairs  in  F was 

now  deplorable,  and  it  seemed  as  if  it 
were  impossible  that  the  strike  could  con- 
tinue much  longer. 

The  mill,  as  has  been  related,  had  re- 
mained open,  and  was  worked  as  far  as  the 
limited  number  of  operatives  permitted. 
Such  men  as  had  applied  for  work,  the  sup- 
erintendent felt  obliged  to  receive.  These 
were  not  "Associates  of  Toil,"  of  course; 
but  merely  men  who  desired  work,  and 
assumed  to  engage  in  it  without  the  permis- 
sion of  any  "  order,"  —  who  felt  that  they 
had  the  right  to  their  own  judgment  as  to 
the  manner  of  supporting  themselves  and 
their  families,  and  had  never  seen  any  good 

247 


248       The  Strike  in  the  B JMill. 

reason  for  submitting  themselves  to  the 
guidance  of  others  in  such  matters.  As 
American  citizens,  they  properly  considered 
that,  so  long  as  they  obeyed  the  laws  of  the 
land,  made  for  all,  they  ought  to  be  pro- 
tected in  disregarding  the  rules  and  cen- 
sorship of  any  coterie  of  men,  who  might, 
indeed,  obey  such  rules  themselves,  if  they 
chose,  but  had  no  right  to  impose  them 
upon  others.  These  workmen  were  under 
the  protection  of  the  police,  but  they  were 
constantly  menaced  by  the  "  Associates," 
and,  in  many  instances  besides  those  already 
alluded  to,  were  maltreated,  in  spite  of  the 
vigilance  of  the  authorities. 

Men  arriving  in  town,  in  search  of  work, 
had  been  met  by  so-called  "  pickets  "  of  the 
order  with  threatening  suggestions,  euphe- 
mistically styled  by  them  "  moral  suasion." 
Some  had  been  frightened  away  at  once, 
and    others    succumbed    to    "  persuasion " 


The  Situation,  249 

after  a  few  clays.  But  there  were  others, 
whose  necessities  or  pluck  rendered  them 
proof  against  it,  and  who  persisted  in  work- 
ing in  the  mill,  as  they  had  intended. 
These  were  obliged  to  go  to  and  from  their 
work,  with  the  others  already  under  the 
same  ban,  more  or  less  under  police  protec- 
tion. Opprobrious  epithets  sounded  con- 
stantly in  their  ears,  and  they  learned  to  be 
almost  indifferent  to  an  occasional  shower 
of  stones. 

Some  account  has  been  given  of  the 
treatment  to  which  they  were  liable  when 
incautiously  venturing  about  the  town  alone 
in  the  evening.  There  had  been  many  in- 
stances of  this  sort,  in  some  of  which  the 
unoffending  men  had  suffered  severely. 
One  man,  nearly  done  to  death,  was  lan- 
guishing in  the  hospital  of  a  neighboring 
city.  On  another  occasion,  however,  when 
the  "Associates"  had  supposed  that  three  to 


250      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

one  was  sufficient  odds,  they  found  them- 
selves mistaken.  Though  attacked  from 
behind,  the  non-union  man,  who  possessed 
great  muscular  power  and  agility,  promptly 
put  them  forth  to  the  signal  discomfi- 
ture of  his  antagonists.  Two  of  them, 
indeed,  were  effectually  prevented  from  fur- 
ther usefulness,  in  this  particular  line  of 
persuasion,  during  the  continuance  of  the 
strike.  Many  of  the  strikers  honestly 
deprecated  these  things;  but  still  they 
went   on. 

The  boycott  had  not  been  confined  to  the 
store  of  Mr.  Jones,  but  had  been  rigidly  ap- 
plied to   all  transacting  business    in  F 

who  failed  to  obey  the  directions  ofuhe 
"  Associates  of  Toil  "  as  to  whom  they 
should  deal  with.  This  included  all  but  one 
—  a  provision  dealer,  whose  shop  was  in  the 
quarter  of  the  town  most  occupied  by  these 
men.      He    yielded,  rather    than    close    up. 


The  Situatiofi.  251 

Some  embarrassment  arose  with  regard  to 
the  only  drug  store  in  the  phice,  and  it  was 
found  necessary  to  raise  the  boycott  there, 
rather  to  the  amusement  of  the  apothecary. 

Poor  Mr.  Jones,  as  he  said,  had  at  first 
suffered  considerably  by  this  oppressive 
interdict;  but  the  entire  business  of  the 
town  was  affected  far  less  by  the  boycott 
than  by  the  general  stagnation  of  trade,  and 
the  loss  of  the  purchasing  power  of  so 
large  a  portion  of  the  population. 

In  a  village  three-fourths  of  whose  popu- 
lation was  composed  of  persons   connected 

with    the    operation    of  the    B-;^ fiictory, 

this  strike  was  a  matter  that  affected  the  en- 
tire place,  and  engaged  the  attention  of  all 
living  in  the  settled  portion  of  the  town.  It 
effected  a  change  in  the  whole  current  of 
affairs.  Its  painful  results  could  not  be 
hidden,  and  little  else  w^as  thought  or  talked 
of     The  charitable  found  the  field  for  their 


252       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

» 

efforts  in  the  relief  of  the  necessitous  so 
limitless  that  they,  like  some  of  our  friends, 
gave  themselves  almost  wholly  to  the  w^ork; 
w^hile  the  town  authorities  found  that,  with 
this  idle  population,  given  to  the  excesses 
described,  their  vigilance  needed  to  be  con- 
stant and  unremitting. 

Perhaps    the  agricultural   portion    of   the 

inhabitants  of  F ,  living  away  from  the 

centre,  were  the  least  affected  by  this  con- 
dition of  things.  When,  after  making  their 
purchases  at  some  boycotted  establishment, 
they  lingered  about  the  village,  it  was  quite 
evident  that  they  regarded  the  strike  as  a 
rather  childish  performance,  with  which 
a  farming  community  could  have  but  little 
sympathy,  albeit  they  w^ere  laborers  them- 
selves of  no  mean  pretensions.  They 
talked  over  the  present  attitude  of  the  strik- 
ers and  the  order  of  the  "  Associates  of 
Toil,"  in  a  calm,  judicial    manner,   on    the 


The  Situation,  253 


store  piazza,  though  the  subject  was  of 
much  less  apparent  interest  to  them  than 
the  points  of  a  yoke  of  steers,  or  the  proba- 
ble price  of  potatoes  during  the  coming 
season;  and  they  contemplated  the  idlers 
about  the  streets  as  though  they  were  so 
many  recalcitrant  school-boys,  who  should, 
perhaps,  be  looked  after  a  little,  but  to 
whose  vagaries  they,  after  all,  attached  but 
little  importance. 

The  idea  of  a  number  of  grown  men 
voluntarily  giving  up  the  personal  control 
of  their  own  business,  and  then  standing 
out,  simply  for  the  sake  of  augmenting  the 
power  and  influence  of  an  organization  that 
seemed  to  them  of  about  the  same  value  as 
the  Odd  Fellows  or  Free  Masons,  met  with 
their  cold  disapproval.  Possessing  natures 
capable  of  being  warmed  to  fever  heat  by 
patriotic  or  other  sufficient  considerations, 
in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life  they  were  im- 


254       ^^^^  Strike  in  the  B Jifill. 

passive  and  logical,  and  were  unable  to  see 
the  least  palliation  for  the  self-inflicted 
sufTerins:  of  those  enorao^ed  in  this  strike. 

It  is  rare  for  mill  operatives  to  have  any 
resource  except  their  wages,  and  after  the 
strikers  had  received  the  amounts  due  at 
the  time  of  the  strike,  their  main  dependence 
was  upon  the  contributions  from  elsewhere. 

The  general  executive  board  of  the 
order  had  from  time  to  time  voted  them 
certain  sums  from  the  general  treasury,  in 
all  a  very  considerable  amount,  and  they 
had  received  from  other  local  assemblies 
some  large  contributions. 

These  supplies  at  first  seemed  to  them 
ample,  unaccustomed  as  most  of  them 
were  to  considerinor  laro^e  amounts  of 
money,  and  not  realizing  that  to  sustain  such 
a  number  of  persons  requires,  in  the  aggre- 
gate, very  great  sums  weekly.  But  they 
soon  became  more   intelligent  on  this   sub- 


The  Situation.  255 

ject.  The  money  came  into  the  hands  of  a 
finance  committee,  who  distributed  it  with 
great  fairness  and  scrupulous  honesty;  but 
it  was  soon  evident  that  it  was  wholly  inad- 
equate to  more  than  slightly  mitigate  their 
growing  distress. 

At  the  last  formal  distribution  this  fact 
was  painfully  apparent.  The  majority  of 
the  applicants  were  women.  Some  had 
with  them  children,  and  it  was  pitiful  to  see 
the  eager  and  wistful  look  of  the  little 
things  as  they  watched  the  scanty  pittance 
handed  to  their  mothers,  evidently  fully 
comprehending  that  it  was  all  that  was  to 
be  had  with  which  to  buy  them  bread. 

"Is  this  all  that  Fm  to  get  from  yez?" 
said  an  old  woman,  looking  at  the  money 
lying  in  her  hand. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  returned  one  of  the  com- 
mittee, "  but  it  is  all  w^e  can  give  you,  in 
fairness  to  the  others  —  " 


256      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

"  Arrah,  the  divil  fly  away  with  yer 
^Associates  of  Toil.'  Didn't  that  thafe  Pat 
Murphy  till  us  that  we'd  be  taken  good  care 
of  by  the  ordher?  Phwat  good  is  this  you've 
given  me?" 

"  Better  draw  a  little  uv  yer  money  from 
the  bank,  Mother  O'Connell,  or  sell  a  house 
or  two  ? "  said  a  young  man  standing 
near  by. 

As  the  old  woman  was  believed  to  have 
saved  a  good  deal,  and  was  known  to  own 
two  tenement  houses,  working  hard  in  the 
mill  only  to  increase  her  hoard,  this  remark 
was  greeted  with  laughter  by  the  crowd. 

"  And  is  it  me  hard  earnings  ye'd  have 
me  spind?"  responded  the  crone.  "Bad 
cess  to  ye  —  and  thin  I'll  not  doit";  and, 
loudy  muttering  to  herself,  she  pushed  out 
through  the  crowd. 

But  there  w^ere  few  like  her.  A  pale, 
middle-aged    woman,    with    a    child  in  her 


The  Situation,  257 

arms,  took  the  money  handed  to  her,  and, 
realizing  its  trifling  amount,  and  what  it 
must  do  for  her  family,  she  could  not  sup- 
press the  tears  that  rose  to  her  eyes. 

"  Can  we  have  no  more  for  a  week  ?  "  she 
said,  looking  piteously  at  the  committee. 
"  We  cannot  live  upon  this.  My  children 
are  nearly  starving  now." 

"  We  want  to  give  you  more,  but  it's  all 
we've  got,"  said  the  committee-man. —  "By 
G — d!  I  can't  stand  this  business,"  he  said 
to  his  colleagues  in  an  undertone,  as  the 
woman  turned  away.  "  You'll  have  to  get 
some  one  in  my  place  after  this." 

A  youngish  man,  himself  looking  thin  and 
hungry  enough,  had  watched  the  women 
coming  and  going  for  some  minutes  —  but 
when  one  of  the  committee  asked  him  if  he 
did  not  want  to  take  his  money,  he  shook 
his  head. 

"No,"  he  said:  "I   can't  do   it.     Give  it 


258      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

to  the  women  and  children.  I  have  no 
family";  and  he  turned  away. 

Many  others  that  afternoon  followed  his 
example  and  nobly  refused  to  take  their 
share,  though  the  hunger  that  was  even 
then  gnawing  them  made  severe  test  of 
their  manhood.  It  was  wonderful  to  see 
men  at  once  so  resolute  and  so  weak.  So 
strong  in  their  capacit}^  for  self-sacrifice,  and 
yet  the  willing  victims  of  a  meaningless 
combination,  to  which  they  clung  with  blind 
fatuity. 

For  several  hours  the  dreary  procession 
filed  in  and  out.  It  seemed  the  veriest 
farce,  this  doling  out  of  sums  not  half 
equal  to  the  needs  they  were  intended  to 
relieve. 

When  the  committee  were  left  to  them- 
selves, they  looked  at  each  other  with  no 
very  pleasant  expressions. 

"Where  is  this  thing  to  end?  "said  the 


The  Situatiofi,  259 

man  who  had  before  spoken.  "What's  the 
prospect  for  more  money,  Hines?" 

"  Very  bad  indeed,"  said  Hines,  who  w^as 
the  same  man  who  has  been  described  in  a 
former  chapter.  Though  much  shaken  in 
his  faith  in  the  wisdom  of  the  course  pur- 
sued by  the  majority,  and  nearly  persuaded 
by  Alston  and  Darragh  to  head  the  return 
to  work,  his  natural  obstinacy  and  great 
reluctance  to  see  the  order  injured,  at  the 
last  held  him  back,  and  he  had  remained  at 
his  post  on  the  finance  committee. 

"  I  have  this  letter,"  he  continued,  "  from 
the  general  board,  that  I  showed  you.  I 
don't  see  much  encouragement  in  it;  do 
you?     There's  too  many  strikes  all  about." 

"Well,  I'm  resigning,"  said  the  other; 
"  and  I'm  going  to  get  out  of  this  myself, 
—  there's  no  lookout  ahead.  I'd  go  into 
the  mill  to-morrow,  but  I  won't  be  called  a 
scab." 


26o      The  Strike  hi  the  B Mill, 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Hines,  "though 
they  don't  say  it,  as  if  the  general  exec- 
utive board,  master  workman  and  all, 
thought  we  ought  to  have  followed  Dar- 
ragh's  advice.  There  is  more  money  gone 
elsewhere  than  here,  any  wa}^,  —  that  I 
know." 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  who  had  been 
writing  on  a  piece  of  paper,  that  he  now 
threw  across  the  table  to  the  others, 
"  there's  my  resignation  as  one  of  this 
committee.  And  I'll  not  be  here  after  to- 
morrow, so  it's  no  use  my  bothering  about 
it.  I'm  a  single  man,  and  I've  got  money 
enouo^h  left  to  gret  me  somewhere  else  to 
find  a  job;  and  when  it  gives  out  I  can 
tramp  it.  There'll  be  company  enough  for 
me  on  the  roads,  I  guess,  if  this  thing 
keeps  on." 

The  others  made  no  reply,  and,  throw- 
ing   on    his    hat,    he     bade     them     good- 


The  Situation.  261 

bye  and  went  out,  slamming  the  door 
behind  him. 

"  He's  about  right,  Hines,"  said  the  other, 
after  he  had  gone.  "If  it  wasn't  that  I 
can't  go,  for  my  family,  I'd  cut  it;  damned 
quick,  too." 

Hines  got  up  and  went  slowly  to  a  win- 
dow, and  stood  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  looking  out  for  a  minute. 

"  I  could  stand  most  anything,"  he  said, 
speaking  as  if  to  himself,  "  but  the  paying 
the  twenty-five  dollars  to  that  speaking  fel- 
low, the  other  night.  I  tell  you,"  he  added, 
turning,  and  coming  back  to  the  table,  that 
he  struck  with  his  heavy  hand,  "  that  thing 
made  me  mad  !  " 

"You're-  right  there,"  said  the  other; 
"  and  I  like  to  hear  you  say  that,  Hines. 
You've  always  been  so  solid  for  sticking  to 
the  order,  no  matter  what  happened.  That's 
what  that  fellow  said,  '  Stick  to  it,'  '  Stand 


262       The  Strike  in  the  B- Mill. 

out  for  principle,'  and  all  that.  Now, 
nines,  I  want  to  know  what  it's  all  for? 
What  is  it  we're  after  with  the  order  but 
more  wages,  or  the  like  of  that?  And, 
when  they're  offered,  why  the  devil  won't 
the  order  let  us  take  them?" 

Hines  was  one  of  the  men  who  had  long: 
had  an  abiding  faith  in  the  power  of  this 
combination  to  do  the  laboring  man  great 
good,  and  he  had  been  willing,  like  Dar- 
ragh,  to  make  personal  sacrifices  to  keep  it 
alive.  His  assessments  had  been  always 
promptly  paid,  and  he  had  rejoiced  in  its 
apparently  flourishing  condition. 

"Well,"  he  now  said,  "I  admit  we  made 
a  mistake  there.  I  told  Mr.  Alston  so  the 
other  day.  It  don't  look  as  though  the  mill 
would  back  down,  and  we're  about  at  the 
end  of  our  rope." 

"  But,"  replied  the  other,  "  you  don't 
answer  me.     We  struck  for  more  pay,  and 


The  Situation,  263 

we  got  it.  There's  where  the  order  helped 
us.  We  were  right  in  striking,  and  the 
way  the  mill  backed  down  shows  it.  Now, 
because  working  with  scabs  don't  suit  the 
order,  they  won't  let  us  take  what  we 
struck  for.  I  say,  Hines,  that  it  ain't  right. 
The  order's  got  up  to  help  tcs^  I  suppose; 
not  we  to  help  the  orderP 

Hines  made  no  answer.  His  belief  in 
the  value  of  the  organization  had  become  a 
habit  with  him,  and  he  could  not  readily 
part  with  it.  But  he  had  no  answer  for  the 
words  of  his  companion,  that  found  an  echo 
in  his  own  mind.  The  logic  of  events  was 
becoming  too  strong  for  the  untested  theo- 
ries he  had  so  long  entertained. 

"  I'm  at  the  last  notch,  myself,"  the  other 
went  on;  "we've  no  food;  and  it's  getting 
cold  and  we've  nothing  to  warm  or  cook 
with.  I  never  thought  to  be  called  a  scab, 
but  I'll  be  one  soon;  and  you  may  give  it 


264      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

away,  if  you  like.  Man!  "  he  added,  excit- 
edly, "  I  never  lifted  my  hand  to  harm  any 
one,  but  I'm  getting  that  desperate  that  I'd 
do  most  anything  now!" 

Hines  looked  worried,  and  spoke  a  few 
words  to  quiet  and  encourage  him.  "  I've 
got  a  few  dollars  of  my  savings  left,"  he 
finally  said.  "I'll  divide  wath  you;  but 
don't  go  do  anything  rash.  There's  been 
enough  of  that  work,  by  the  roughs  we've 
got  with  us,  and  I'm  afraid  they're  not  done 
yet.  Don't  you,  a  decent  man,  disgrace 
yourself  that  way." 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  more  quietl}^,  "  I 
don't  mean  to  if  I  can  help  it." 

He  got  up  to  go.  "  I  may  be  in  the  mill 
to-morrow,  or  soon,  rather  than  take  your 
money.  Don't  let  them  abuse  me,  Hines, 
if  you  can  help  it.  I  don't  go  back  on  the 
order  because  I  want  to — it's  because  it 
will  kill  me  and  m}^  family  if  I  don't." 


The  Situation,  265 

The  man  spoke  these  words  in  almost  a 
broken  voice,  and  Hines,  who  liked  him  as 
an  old  and  tried  friend,  was  much  moved. 

"  They  shall  not  if  I've  any  weight  with 
them  at  all,"  he  said,  firmly.  "  If  they  do, 
I'll  follow  you,  order  or  no  order." 

The  change  in  his  feelings  that  could 
permit  of  his  making  even  this  conditional 
promise  was,  in  a  man  of  his  character  and 
determination,  very  great:  and  he  fully 
meant  to  keep  it. 

Many  of  the  strikers  had  left  the  town, 
seeking  w^ork  elsewhere.  Some  few  were 
able  to  use  the  cars,  but  more  went  on 
foot  on  the  highways,  utterly  destitute,  and 
obliged  to  beg  their  bread  from  one  farm- 
house to  another.  The  greater  number, 
however,  were  obliged  to  remain. 

Men  who  are  suffering  are  very  apt  to  be 
unreasonable,  and  these,  seeing  their  fami- 
lies in  need,  and  others  doing  the  work  that 


266      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

they  had  learned  to  regard  as  their  vested 
right^  they  looked  on  the  new-comers  with 
daily  increasing  hatred.  Many  who  were 
not  naturally  inclined  to  violence  of  any 
kind  now  saw  with  indifference  the  frequent 
attempts  against  the  non-union  workmen, 
and  were  in  a  state  of  mind  that  was  fast 
becoming  dangerous  to  law  and  order.  The 
fear  of  the  vengeance  of  the  order  kept 
many  true  to  it,  who  had  long  since  been 
disenchanted  as  to  its  power  to  do  them  any 
good. 

Each  man  was  suspicious  of  his  fellow, 
and,  except  among  those  most  intimate,  they 
were  actually  afraid  to  express  their  real  sen- 
timents. A  kind  of  reign  of  terror  prevailed 
that  it  seemed  impossible  to  break.  But 
the  constantly  increasing  restlessness  of  the 
men  began  to  show  the  leaders  that,  in  spite 
of  their  late  successful  suppression  of  revolt, 
they  could  hardly  hold  them  much  longer. 


The  Situation*  267 


These  men,  while  of  not  more  than 
average  ability,  were  astute  politicians.  By 
the  simple  processes  that  others  see  through, 
but  do  not  take  the  trouble  to  energetically 
combat,  they  had  originally  secured  their 
election  to  these  positions,  and  now,  in 
order  to  hold  them,  it  was  very  essential 
that  they  should  succeed  in  carrying  the 
strike  through  to  a  substantially  successful 
issue,  upon  the  basis  they  had  persuaded  the 
majority  to  adopt. 

Utterly  unscrupulous,  they  cared  little  for 
the  suffering  of  the  people,  so  that  they 
could  carry  out  their  ends,  and  they  had  had 
little  difficulty  in  keeping  about  them  a 
sufficient  number  of  the  worst  disposed 
men  to  overawe  the  rest,  and  upon  whom 
they  could  depend  for  any  illegal  acts. 
A  few  of  these  had  been  arrested 
and  punished  ;  but  the  greater  number 
escaped,    and     still     formed    a    dangerous 


268      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

and  facile  weapon  in  the  hands  of  their 
masters. 

Throughout,  the  leaders  and  their  adhe- 
rents had  stimulated  as  far  as  possible  the 
courage  and  endurance  of  the  strikers  by 
meetings  of  the  order,  and  by  personal  ap- 
peals and  exhortation.  As  underlying  them 
all  there  was  a  covert  threat,  too  well  ap- 
preciated, they  had  been  so  far  effectual;  for, 
as  has  been  seen,  it  needed  combination  to 
enable  an}^  head  to  be  made  against  this 
solid  cabal  within  the  organization. 

There  were  many  secret  meetings  of  this 
central  junta,  to  which  none  were  admitted 
but  those  who  were  in  full  sympath}^  w^ith 
the  leaders,  and  pledged  to  carry  the  strike 
to  a  successful  termination  by  any  means. 
Many  plans  had  been  discussed,  and  some 
carried  out,  but  so  far  none  had  met  with 
the  success  that  had  been  desired.  The  non- 
union workmen  still  remained  in  the  town. 


The  Situation.  269 

The  man  Kohler  was  always  present  at 
their  meetings,  for,  though  unpopular  with 
the  strikers  at  large,  these  men  found  him  a 
kindred  spirit.  Learning  of  the  strike, 
through  the  newspapers,  it  had  occurred 
to  him  that  here  might  be  a  compara- 
tively safe  place  to  propagate  his  pecu- 
liar doctrines,  it  being  in  a  small  village, 
probably  indifferently  provided  with  police, 
and  the  strikers  largely  of  foreign  antece- 
dents. He  had,  therefore,  left  the  back 
room  in  the  city  whence  he  periodically 
belched  forth  fire  and  slaug^hter  through  the 
inane  ravings  of  an  anarchical  newspaper, 
and  appeared  in  F . 

The  average  New  Englander  is  by  nature 
and  education  extremely  averse  to  interfe- 
rence with  any  man's  personal  liberty,  and 
this  fellow  had  been  suffered  to  remain  in 

F and    do    and    say    about    what    he 

pleased. 


270      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

It  is  only  justice  to  say  that  the  larger 
number  of  the  strikers  were  not  at  all  in 
sympathy  with  his  "  principles,"  which 
might  be  briefly  epitomized  as  exhortations 
to  burn  the  town  and  kill  everybody  in  it 
who  was  not  an  "  Associate  of  Toil  "  or 
Anarchist.  But  the  extremists,  with  whom 
everything  was  subordinated  to  carrying 
their  strike  through  to  a  successful  end- 
ing on  their  own  line,  found  that  the  mis- 
chievous German,  so  fertile  in  sugges- 
tions, was  also  useful  in  procuring  them 
a  considerable  number  of  weapons  and 
ammunition,  including  a  quantity  of  dyna- 
mite. 

Their  later  conferences  were  upon  the  most 
effectual  method  of  utilizing  these  weapons 
in  an  effort  to  drive  the  non-union  workmen 
in  a  body  from  the  town.  When  they  were 
got  rid  of,  it  was  proposed  to  enter  the  mill 
and  go  to  work  without  further  explanations 


The  Situation,  271 

or  conference.  This  would  be,  as  they 
viewed  it,  a  practical  victory.  At  any 
rate,  they  saw  no  other  open  to   them. 

They  were  able  to  rely  upon  fifty  or  more 
roughs,  who,  some  of  them,  joined  in  their 
consultations,  and  it  was  believed  that  a 
few  hundred  others  might  be  suddenly 
aroused  and  led  on  to  mischief  by  an  appeal 
to  their  passions  and  simultaneous  move- 
ment of  the  conspirators  and  their  horde. 

Nearly  seven  weeks  of  the  strike  had 
passed.  A  vague  feeling  of  uneasiness  per- 
vaded the  village,  and  every  one  had  an  air 
of  strained  expectation  as  of  some  approach- 
ing crisis  that  could  not  be  long  deferred, 
and  the  nature  of  which  it  was  impossible 
to  determine. 

The  solicitude  of  the  authorities  in- 
creased, and  they  quietly  added  to  their 
precautions,  for,  though  as  yet  there  had 
been  no  organized  violence,  and  some  dan- 


272       The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

gers  had  been  averted,  they  feared  that 
something  of  the  kind  would  be  attempted 
before  the  leaders  and  their  followers  would 
abandon  their  grip  upon  the  men.  This  fear 
was  by  no  means  imaginary,  as  will  be  seen. 

Upon  a  cold  November  evening,  nearly 
at  the  end  of  the  seventh  week  of  the  strike,  a 
number  of  men  were  gathered  in  a  by-street 
of  the  town.  Some  stood  about  the  door 
and  steps  of  a  rumshop  at  the  corner  of  an 
alley,  w^hile  others  lounged  here  and  there 
on  the  sidewalk.  Though  the  men  had 
sauntered  up  in  an  apparently  aimless  way, 
it  was  quite  evident  that  their  assembling 
was  preconcerted. 

The  baize  doors  of  the  dramshop  were 
constantly  swinging  as  men  passed  in  and 
out,  and  scraps  of  conversation  might  have 
been  heard  by  the  passers-by,  whom  the 
men  on  the  sidewalk  were  careful  not  to 
impede. 


The  Sititation,  273 


'^  Damn  these  cartridges !  "  said  one, 
"  3'ou  can't  use  them  in  a  fight." 

"  Well,"  was  the  answer,  "  what  Murphy 
wants  is  to  blow  down  the  south  wall  of 
the  corporation  block,  where  that  crowd  of 
scabs  is." 

"Where  is  Kohler?"  asked  another  man, 
pressing  through  the  crowd. 

"  Here  I  vash,"  said  that  disreputable- 
looking  foreigner,  as  he  came  through  one 
of  the  baize  doors,  wiping  his  beard  with 
his  dirty  hand. 

"Are  we  all  ready  now?"  asked  the  first 
speaker. 

"  Yash — I  suppose,"  rejoined  the  An- 
archist. "  But  you  better  mine  advice  haf 
taken,  and  had  bomps.  Dey  vash  mooch 
brettier  dinks  for  der  pizness." 

"You  be  hanged!  We  don't  want  to 
blow  up  anything  but  the  buildings.  If  we 
are  troubled  by  the  police,  we'll  fight  them 


274  -    ^^^^  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

fair.  We'll  outnumber  them,  and  have  pis- 
tols as  well  as  they." 

"  We  must  do  something,"  said  Bradford, 
"to  drive  out  the  scabs.  If  we  blow  up  the 
houses,  they'll  '  git,'  and  the  mill  will  give 
in.  And,  if  they're  gone,  we  can  go  to 
work,  any  way." 

"  We  can't  hold  our  men  much  longer," 
said  another,  "  unless  we  do  something." 

"  Faith,"  interrupted  Murphy,  laughing, 
with  that  perception  of  a  joke  that  is  always 
present  with  an  Irishman,  "we  can't  hould 
oursilves — bad   cess  to  it!" 

"  Well,"  said  a  strong-looking  fellow, 
with  a  bad  face,  who  seemed  to  have  much 
authorit}^,  "  this  night's  job  may  beat  'em, 
after  all;   damn  'em!" 

"  Come  on  now,  boys!  "  he  added;  "  let's 
go  over  to  the  hall.  You  all  have  the 
watchword,  and  every  man  knows  what 
he's  to  do." 


The  Situation,  275 

"  Has  Wadsworth  had  whiskey  enough 
to  make  him  talk?"  asked  Bradford. 

"Yes — yes,"  answered  several,  and 
slowly,  by  twos  and  threes,  the  party 
lounged   away. 

There  was  a  regular  meeting  of  the 
"Associates  of  Toil "  at  the  hall  that  even- 
ing, called  to  consult  on  the  situation  and  re- 
ceive a  report  from  the  finance  committee; 
and  the  men,  by  different  routes,  all  took 
that  direction. 


CHAPTER  XL 

SOME    BUCOLIC    OPINIONS. 

T3RAYTON'S    resolve  to  give   up  some 

of  the  more  expensive  of  his  farming 

fancies  was  not  suffered  to  lapse.     He  had 

received    a    large    price    for    his    remaining 

merinos,  and  w^as  disposing  of  a  number  of 

high-bred  colts   and  cattle  that  he  had  on 

hand. 

On  the   afternoon  spoken   of  in  the   last 

chapter,  he  was  driving  a  young  horse  over 
to  show  to  a  gentleman,  who  had  a  large 
fancy  farm  some  distance  on  the  other  side 

of  F ,  when  at  a  place  where  the  road 

passed  through  a  hollow  and  along  a  cause- 
way lined  with  willows,  the  animal  sprang 
out  of  the  track  so  suddenly  as  to  tax  his 
strength  and  skill  to  the  utmost  to  keep  him 

276 


Sovie  Bucolic  Opinio7is,  277 

and  the  carriage  from  going  off  the  cause- 
way. 

He  had  the  mettlesome  but  gentle  crea- 
ture imder  control  in  an  instant,  and,  look- 
ing to  ascertain  what  had  caused  its  fright, 
he  perceived  two  men  sitting  at  the  side  of 
a  little  thicket,  in  the  shade  of  the  willows, 
one  of  whom,  not  observing  that  they  had 
frightened  the  horse,  arose,  and  asked  Bray- 
ton  what  time  it  was.  He  told  him,  and, 
in  his  turn,  asked  which  way  they  were 
walking. 

"  Well,    sir,"    answered    the    man,    "  we 

started    from    F this    afternoon.       It's 

only  a  matter  of  four  miles,  or  so,  but  we 
ain't  much  used  to  walking.  Maybe  we'll 
do  better  before  we've  orot  throuo:h  our 
journey." 

Brayton  was  a  kind-hearted  fellow,  and, 
as  he  was  going  several  miles  farther  on, 
and    was    driving     in    a    roomy     Concord 


278      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

wagon,  he  told  the  men  to  get  in  and  he'd 
give  them  a  lift,  which  they  seemed  very 
glad  to  have. 

"  You're  leaving    F to  find  work,   I 

suppose?"  he  said,  as  they  drove  on. 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  one  of  the  men. 
"  It's  all  along  of  the  strike.  We  can't  wait 
no  longer  for  work,  and  were  going  to  look 
for  it  elsewhere.  There's  lots  gone  al- 
ready." 

"It's  a  pity,"  said  Brayton,  "that  you 
couldn't  have  made  up  with  the  mill,  and 
all  got  back  to  work  before  this." 

"  Me  and  Jim  would  'a'  done  it,  sir,"  an- 
swered the  man,  "  but  we  didn't  feel  quite 
safe  to,  and  thought  it  'ud  be  easier  just  to 
cut  it,  and  get  in  quiet  somewheres  else. 
We  was  '  Associates,'  you  see,  sir;  and  the 
^  Associates '  don't  like  no  ratting." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Brayton.  "But 
what  has  become  of  your  families?  " 


Some  Bucolic  Opinions,  279 

"We  hain't  any  families  —  me  and  Jim 
hain't.  Them  that  has,  can't  leave,  and 
they're  having  a  hard  time.  We  ain't  had 
any  too  much  to  eat  for  a  week,  ourselves," 
added  the  poor  fellow,  patiently. 

Brayton  looked  at  him  and  was  moved  to 
pity,  as  he  observed  his  hollow  eyes  and 
pale  face  under  his  half-grown  beard. 

"  Take  this/'  he  said,  handing  them  some 
mone}',  when  he  reached  his  destination, 
and  they  were  starting  again  on  their  weary 
tramp. 

On  Brayton's  return  home,  he  passed  Mr. 
Bradshaw's  farm,  and,  observing  the  worthy 
agriculturalist  in  his  farm-yard,  where  he 
was  engaged  in  the  useful  but  prosaic  occu- 
pation of  shovelling  manure  into  a  cart, 
with  the  ultimate  intention  of  spreading  it 
on  his  fields,  he  drew  up  his  horse  by  the 
fence,  and  called  to  him. 

Mr.    Bradshaw    unbent    hi^    long    person 


28o      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill 

very  much  as  one  would  open  a  jack-knife, 
and  leaned  gracefully  on  his  shov^el  a 
moment,  as  if  it  had  been  a  sword,  while  he 
gradually  took  in  the  identity  of  the  man  in 
the  wagon.  When  he  recognized  his  vis- 
itor, he  left  his  work  with  that  alacrity 
always  observed  in  the  husbandman,  when 
the  slightest  pretext  presents  itself,  and 
regardless  of  the  reproach  in  the  mild  eyes 
of  his  patient  oxen,  came  over  to  the  fence, 
and,  laying  his  arms  on  the  top  rail,  settled 
down  for  a  protracted  chat.  The  suspend- 
ers of  his  overalls  accentuated  the  breadth 
and  leanness  of  his  shoulders  as  he  squared 
them  over  the  rail,  while  his  sunburned, 
good-humored  face  looked  out  from  a  straw 
hat  about  the  size  of  a  Japanese  umbrella. 

"Waal,  George,"  he  said,  "I'm  glad 
f  see  ye.  Haow's  the  old  lady?  —  Yaas? 
Thet's  a  mighty  pretty  crittur  in  them 
shafts,"    he    added,   in    a    confidential    tone. 


Sotne  Bucolic  Opinions,  281 

looking  critically  at  the  colt;  "almighty 
nice  little  hoss." 

"Yes,"  said  Bra3^ton.  "  I've  made  up  my 
mind  to  sell  him,  though." 

"  Sho !  —  ye  don't  say  so,  do  ye !  Waal 
I  guess  ye  want  a  good  price  fur  him. 
Unless,"  he  went  on  cautiously,  craning  his 
head  farther  over  the  fence,  "  he's  suthin' 
the  matter  with  his  legs.  Colts  most  alters 
duz  have." 

In  utter  disregard  of  his  late  enofrossinof 
labors,  Mr.  Bradshaw's  interest  in  the  con- 
versation now  induced  him  to  insure  its 
prolongation  by  lazily  swinging  a  long  leg 
up,  and  seating  himself  on  the  fence.  This 
accomplished,  he  detached  a  large  splinter 
from  the  top  rail,  and,  drawing  from  his 
pocket  a  preposterous  knife,  having  a  blade 
large  enough  to  split  cord-wood,  he  be- 
came equipped  for  conversation  to  an}^ 
extent. 


282      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

"  Haow's  yer  apples  this  year,  George?  " 
he  asked,  whittling  slowly. 

"  Pretty  well,"  answered  Brayton.  "  I 
have  plenty,  but  they  don't  seem  to  have 
filled  out  well." 

"Yaas?  waal,  it's  'baout  so  with  mine, 
tew.  Naow,  haow  queer  'tis,  ain't  it?" 
added  Mr.  Bradshaw,  with  a  thoughtful 
pucker;  '^  if  'tain't  one  thing,  it's  another  — 
allers  suthin'  wrong."  He  shook  his  head 
with  an  air  of  philosophical  resignation. 

"  I  supposed  you  might  like  to  speak  of 
those  cows,"  said  Brayton. 

"In  a  minnit,  George!  in  a  minnit!" 
answered  Mr.  Bradshaw,  who  had  no  notion 
of  taking  up  his  choicest  topic  until  all 
other  themes  had  been  thoroughly  ex- 
hausted. "  Ther's  time  enough.  By  the 
way,  George,  speakin'  uv  cows  —  haow's  the 
strike  a-gittin'  on  to  F ,  George." 

"  They  are  still  holding    out,"    answered 


Some  Bucolic  Opiniofis.  283 

Brayton.  "  But  the  organization  can't  hold 
them  much  longer,  I  think." 

"  Them  '  Associates  uv  Toil '  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Bradshaw. 

"Yes." 

"  Yaas  ?  Naow,  what  all-fired  foolishness 
it  is,  ain't  it,  George?  Ther's  my  boy 
Eben,"  he  went  on  ;  "  stout  young  feller 
'nuff,  but  hain't  got  none  tew  much  sprawl 

—  he  would  go  off  to  L ,  a  shoe-makin' 

in  one  uv  them  shops.  I  sez  I  wanted  him 
ter  stay  on  th'  old  place — good  farm,  but 
needs  young  blood  ter  keep  it  up.  I'm 
a-gittin'  middlin'  old  myself.  But,  no,  he 
would  go.  Wanted  ter  wear  store-clothes, 
I  guess,  an'  be  raound  taown  evenin's. 
Thet's  'baout  th'  heft  uv  it,  I  guess." 

"So  he  has  left  you  ?"  said  Brayton;  "I 
haven't  seen  him  lately,  but  didn't  know 
he  had  gone  away." 

"Yaas,  this  ten  months.     Waal,  's  I  wuz 


284      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

a-sayin',  he  come  home,  a  while  ago,  all 
dressed  up  ter  kill,  an'  told  me  all  'baout 
them  '  Associates  uv  Toil '  he'd  jined,  an' 
what  a  big  thing  'twas,  an'  all  thet.  Sez  I, 
^  Eben,  you  little  numbscull,'  sez  I,  '  I've 
done  more  hard  labor  than  ye'U  ever  do, 
an'  I  hain't  got  no  call  ter  be  a  ^  Associate 
uv  Toil.'  But  he  went  on  ter  tell  uv  their 
rules  and  gov'nment  and  the  resistin'  of  the 
encroachments  uv  capital,  an'  all  sich;  and, 
sez  I :  '  Nao  w,  shet  up !  don't  ye  talk  sich  stuff 
ter  me.  We're  livin'  in  a  free  country,'  sez 
I,  '  an'  hain't  no  use  for  no  gov'nment  'cept 
that  uv  Uncle  Sam.  He's  tuk  good  care 
uv  me  so  fur;  an'  what  he  can't  do  I  can  do 
fur  myself  " 

"  Well,  you  were  about  right,"  said 
Brayton,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"Naow,  George,"  said  Mr.  Bradshaw, 
anxiously,  for  he  was  thoroughly  enjoying 
himself,  "don't  ye  be  in  a  hurry;   it's  airly 


Some  BucoUc  Opinions.  285 

yit.  Well,  as  I  wuz  a-sayinV'  he  went  on, 
"  I  sez  to  mother  that  night,  sez  I,  '  Aour 
Eben  allers  wuz  a  blamed  fool,  an'  I  guess 
he  ain't  no  less  uv  one,  naow  he's  a  "  Asso- 
ciate uv  Toil,"  than  he  wuz  afore.'" 

Brayton  here  lifted  the  colt's  head  from 
the  fence,  over  which  it  was  leaning,  with 
the  rein,  and  showed  some  signs  of  impa- 
tience. 

"  Waal,"  continued  Mr.  Bradshaw,  nar- 
rowly watching  him,  "  Eben  is  on  a  strike 
naow,  tew,  Eb  is;  and  I  expect,"  he  added, 
with  an  expansive  smile,  "  that  he'll  be 
comin'  along*  home  directly,  to  git  suthin' 
t' eat.     Darned  little  jackass!  " 

Bra3ton  laughed,  and  gathered  up  his 
reins,  settling  himself  in  his  seat. 

"  I  really  must  be  off,  Mr.  Bradshaw," 
he  said;  "do  you  think  you  care  for  either 
of  those  heifers  ?  " 

Mr.  Bradshaw  spit  meditativel}^,  and  his 


286      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

face  took  on  a  look  of  unspeakable  wis- 
dom. 

"  Half  Durham  ye  said,  George?" 

"Yes;  I  have  told  you  that  a  dozen  times," 
said  Brayton,  smiling. 

"  I'm  afeared  ye  set  'em  too  high,"  said  Mr. 
Bradshaw.  "  Naow,  what  did  ye  think  uv 
that  crumple  caow." 

"  What's  yer  hurry  ?  "  he  added,  in  great 
alarm,  as  Brayton,  remarking  that  he  was  not 
thinking  of  the  crumpled  cow  at  all,  started 
his  horse  and  drove  off  at  a  good  pace. 

"  Waal  —  good-bye,  good-bye  !  "  shouted 
Mr.  Bradshaw  as  the  team  I'apidly  disap- 
peared. 

"  What's  the  good  uv  bein'  in  sich  a 
hurry,"  he  grumbled  to  hmiself  as  he 
examined  his  whittled  stick  with  great  care, 
turning  it  first  on  one  side  and  then  the 
other.  "A-  man  can't  trade  in  no  sich 
way."     Then  mentally  determining  to  catch 


Some  Bucolic  Opimons.  287 

Brayton  at  home  early  some  afternoon  and 
enjoy  the  '  precious  season '  that  he  had 
been  disappointed  of  this  time,  he  looked 
up  and  down  the  road  in  the  vain  hope  that 
some  other  acquaintance  would  happen 
along  and  keep  him  yet  longer  from  a  return 
to  his  labors.  This  wish  not  being  gratified, 
he  threw  away  his  stick,  returned  his  knife 
to  his  pocket,  and,  slowly  dropping  his  legs 
from  the  fence,  turned  his  reluctant  atten- 
tion once  more  to  his  muck-heap  and  oxen. 

"Whoa  hesh,  Buck!  Haw,  Bright  — 
whoa  there!  what's  yer  hurry?"  remarked 
Mr.  Bradshaw,  to  those  much-enduring 
beasts. 

As  Brayton  drove  homeward,  he  could 
not  help  thinking  of  the  fatuity  that  took 
these  young  men  away  from  their  fathers' 
farms  to  become  wage-earners.  Here  was 
Bradshaw,  with  a  comfortable  farm,  that 
only  needed  the  work  of  young  and  inter- 


288       The  Strike  in  the  B JMilL 

ested  hands  to  keep  it  in  good  order,  and 
his  only  son  would  not  stay  and  do  it.  The 
farm  would  soon  begin  to  deteriorate,  while 
the  man  who  could  have  had  peace  and 
plenty  there,  chose  to  earn  scanty  wages 
in  a  town,  probably  for  all  his  life. 

To  Brayton,  who  loved  his  fields  and 
doted  on  his  live-stock,  and  to  whom  the 
most  ordinary  incidents  of  farming  were  a 
constant  source  of  interest,  the  stupidity  of 
this  young  man  was  incomprehensible. 

As    he    drove    through    F- ,    he    was 

stopped  by  a  detective  in  plain  clothes,  who 
had  been  for  some  little  time  in  the  employ 
of  the  town. 

As  Brayton  drew  up  to  the  sidewalk,  the 
man  motioned  to  him  to  drive  into  an  open 
carriage-way  leading  from  the  street,  and, 
looking  up  and  down  to  see  that  they  had 
not  been  observed,  he  came  to  the  side  of 
the  wagon. 


Some  Btccolic  Opinions,  289 

"Did  you  see  the  chief  of  police?"  he 
asked. 

"  No,"  said  Brayton,  "  what  is  it?  " 

"  He  was  looking  for  you,"  said  the  man. 
"  The  fact  is,  we  really  think  that  crowd  are 
up  to  something  to-night." 

"  What  are  they  concocting  —  do  you 
know?"   asked   Brayton. 

"  As  near  as  I  can  make  out,  they  are 
going  to  try  and  blow  up  that  wall  again." 

"  What!  of  the  south  tenements?  "  asked 
Brayton. 

"  Yes  ;   that's  their  scheme." 

"  How  can  they  get  there,"  said  Brayton, 
"without  being  seen?  There  are  pickets 
there  night  and  day  since  that  cartridge 
was  found." 

"  Yes,  but  they  are  going  to  try  a  mob 
and  force  things  this  time." 

"They'll  never  dare  that!  will  they?" 
said  Brayton.     "  And  there  are  not  enough 


290      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

bad  ones  to  make  a  show,  I  should 
think." 

"  There's  more  than  3^ou  think,  sir," 
returned  the  man;  "and  there's  two  or 
three  hundred  more  who  are  not  of  them- 
selves inclined  to  mischief,  but  are  suffering 
and  desperate,  and  might  easily  be  drawn 
into  it." 

Brayton  thought  a  moment.  "  Is  the 
detail  from  M here?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  it  was  telegraphed  for,  and  got 
over  this  noon.  I  do  believe  they  mean 
business  this  time,  sir,"  continued  the  man. 
"  Some  of  them  think  that  if  they  could 
scare  the  scabs  out,  the  mill  would  give  in, 
or,  at  least,  there'd  be  no  scabs  to  work 
with,  and  they  could  go  in  without  a  back- 
down. So  they  talk,  and  they've  got  to  do 
something  soon,  or  not  at  all." 

"Yes?  well,  I  have  my  doubts  whether 
they  do  it,  after  all,"  said  Bra3^ton,  reflecting, 


Some  Bucolic  Opinions.  291 

as  he  flicked  the  flies  from  the  colt's 
quarter. 

"  I'll  be  back  in  town  as  soon  as  I  have 
tea,"  he  said  directly;  "  there's  no  hurry,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

'*Oh,  no,"  said  the  detective,  "They 
are  going  up  there  afl:er  the  meeting,  if  they 
can  start  the  crowd  from  the  hall.  Mean- 
while we  have  a  strong  force  there,  and  the 

M detail  will  slip  round  as  soon  as  it's 

dark." 

"  That's  right  —  I'll  be  back  before  that," 
said  Brayton;  and,  starting  the  colt,  now 
becoming  a  little  restive,  he  drove  out  of 
the  yard.  As  he  passed  Mr.  Hardy's  house, 
he  drew  rein  and  jumped  from  the  wagon. 

Keeping  his  eye  on  his  horse,  he  went  up 
the  steps  and  rang  the  bell,  running  back 
again  in  time  to  catch  the  reins  as  the 
animal  made  a  start. 

"  Say    to  Miss  Hardy,"    he    said    to    the 


292      The  Strike  in  the  B AlilL 

servant  that  came  to  the  door,  "  that  I  wish 
she  would  come  to  the  door  a  moment,  as  I 
cannot  leave  my  horse,  and  would  like  to 
speak  with  her." 

"  I  can't  leave  this  horse,"  he  said  to 
Ellen  as  she  appeared.  ^'  I  wanted  to  ask 
you  and  your  father  to  remain  at  home  this 
evening,  as  there  might  be  a  little  rumpus 
in  the  streets,  and  I  should  be  glad  to  know 
you  were  both  at  home." 

"What  is  it, —  what  is  going  to  happen? 
George?"  There  had  been  a  number  of 
alarms  and  rumors  lately,  and  she  was 
becoming  thoroughly  nervous  and  fright- 
ened. 

"  Oh!"  he  replied,  "  I  doubt  if  it  amounts 
to  anything,  but  I  wanted  to  be  on  the  safe 
side  with  you,  darling." 

"  But  where  shall  you  be,  George  ?  I  want 
to  be  on  the  safe  side  with  you,  too." 

"Don't  worry  about  me,  dear!  —  I  shall 


Some  Bucolic  Opinions  293 

be  all  right!  there  isn't  the  least  danger,  you 
see.  I  didn't  want  you  to  get  into  any  crowd 
—  that  is  all.  But  I  won't  keep  you  in  the 
street  here  any  longer,  so  good-bye.  I'll  be 
in  in  the  morning." 

He  was  rather  anxious  to  be  no  further 
questioned.  He  had  not  wished  to  alarm 
her,  and  only  the  possibility  of  her  being  in 
the  street,  and  subjected  perhaps  to  annoy- 
ance and  danger,  had  induced  him  to  run 
the  risk  of  causing  her  the  lesser  evil  of 
anxiety. 

As  he  drove  home,  he  almost  regretted 
having  done  so,  for  he  entertained  great 
doubt  of  the  genuineness  of  the  proposed 
attempt. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

LAWLESSNESS. 

T^HE  meeting  of  the  "Associates  of 
Toil "  that  evening  was  ostensibly 
called  for  conference  as  to  the  prospect  of 
further  outside  aid.  There  was  a  conspicu- 
ous absence  of  the  better  class  of  men,  and 
there  were  no  women  present.  Many  had 
given  up  attending  these  numerous  meet- 
ings, fruitless  of  result,  that  only  seemed  to 
be  held  for  the  opportunity  afforded  for 
windy  declamation.  This  night  many 
feared  to  come,  for  there  was  danger  in 
the  air.  Still  the  hall  was  tolerably  well 
filled. 

Instead  of  the  well  fed,  comfortable-look- 
ing  men,  of  quiet  demeanor,  who,  for  the 
294 


Lawlessness.  295 


most  part,  had  filled  the  place  a  month  be- 
fore, most  of  the  faces  were  haggard  and 
restless;  many  showed  the  blood-shot  eyes 
and  strained  expression  of  men  who  were 
drinking  hard,  and  some  of  those  present 
were  more  or  less  under  the  influence  of 
liquor. 

Hines,  the  chairman  of  the  finance  com- 
mittee, addressed  the  meeting,  but  his  spirit 
and  determination  appeared  to  be  broken. 
In  a  depressed  way,  he  told  them  that  the 
committee  had  worked  hard  and  done  all 
that  they  could,  but  the  contributions  came 
in  very  slowly,  and  some  had  ceased  alto- 
gether. The  calls  on  the  executive  board 
were  responded  to  as  far  as  fairly  encour- 
aging letters  went,  but  they  seemed  to  find 
it  impossible  to  send  much  money.  One 
of  the  committee  had  resigned,  and  gone 
awa}^  He  didn't  see  how  they  could  go  on 
much  longer.     They  had  hardly  any  money 


296      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

in  hand,  and  he  didn't  know  what  to  advise. 
As  he  concluded,  he  looked  about  him  in  a 
cheerless  way,  sat  down  on  a  chair  on  the 
platform,  and  wiped  his  face  with  his  hand- 
kerchief. 

There  was  an  angry  murmur  in  the  audi- 
ence, and  the  man  Wadsworth  jumped 
upon  a  chair  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 
He  was  an  Englishman,  of  good  abilities, 
and  had  received  a  university  education. 
Losing  position  and  prospects,  years  before, 
through  his  incurably  bad  habits,  he  had 
long  eked  out  his  living,  w^hen  sober,  by 
ordinary  unskilled  work.  When  elated  by 
a  sufficiency  of  liquor,  he  was  a  ready 
speaker,  and,  disgusted  with  life,  and  pos- 
sessed with  rancor  against  those  more  vir- 
tuous than  himself,  he  could  always  be 
relied  upon  for  violent  philippics  against 
the  established  order  of  things. 

"  Brethi'cn !  *"  he  shouted,  "we  cafi't  hold 


Lawlessness.  297 


on  much  longer!  We  are  lying  under  the 
hand  of  our  oppressors,  and  our  resources 
are  nearly  spent.  Our  families  are  starving. 
What  is  the  effective  weapon  in  the  hands 
of  this  soulless  corporation  that  they  are 
using  to  crush  us?  It's  these  accursed 
scabs,  brethren!  " 

As  he  pronounced  these  words  his  voice 
rose  almost  to  a  shriek;  then  he  stopped 
short.  Cries  of  "That's  so!"  "Damn 
'cm!"  "Kill  'em!  "sprang  up  all  over  the 
hall. 

After  waiting  a  moment,  he  resumed. 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  they  ought  to  be 
killed,  for  they  are  killing  ?/5, — killing  our 
wives  and  our  children.  They  come  and 
steal  our  work  and  our  money,  —  the  ver}^ 
bread  out  of  our  mouths.  And  every  day 
they  take  away  our  hope  of  victory  over  our 
oppressor!  How  long  shall  we  endure  it? 
How    much     lonecr    can     we    endure    it? 


298      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

Brethren,  we  never  can  conquer  till  we 
drive  them  out.  When  they  go,  the  mill 
gives  in.  Let  us  do  it,  then,  and  do  it  to- 
night. We  are  ready.  Your  leaders  are 
here!" 

"Come  on,  then!"  shouted  several.  The 
men  of  the  street  assemblage  passed  rapidly 
through  the  crowd,  shouting  to  be  led  on, 
and  a  general  movement  began  toward  the 
door. 

A  few  tried  to  stem  the  torrent,  and 
called  to  the  men  to  stop,  but  they  were 
unheeded,  or  silenced  with  blows;  and, 
under  the  lead  of  the  organized  body  of 
conspirators,  a  considerable  mob  was  in  a 
moment  on  the  street,  ready  for  any  mis- 
chief Once  there,  the  cry  was  raised,  "  On 
to  the  south  tenements,  and  drive  out  the 
scabs ! " 

As  they  moved  onward,  certain  men 
seemed  to  assume  direction,  though  not  the 


La'wless7iess,  299 


slightest  order  was  maintained.  One  of 
these  men  presently  called  out,  "  Where's 
Kohler?"  A  rather  weak  voice  responded 
from  the  middle  of  the  crowd,  "  Here  I 
vash, —  I  leads  you!     Yes,  yes!  " 

It  was  more  than  an  hour  since  the 
Anarchist  had  tasted  beer,  which  may,  per- 
haps, have  accounted  for  his  husky,  insuffi- 
cient tones  at  this  triumphant  moment, 
when  his  teachings  seemed  on  the  point 
of  immediate  fruition. 

The  detective  who  had  spoken  that  after- 
noon to  Brayton  had  been  about  the  out- 
side of  the  hall,  and,  gathering  from  the 
exclamations  of  the  men,  as  they  swarmed 
out,  of  their  destination  and  purpose,  he 
made  haste  to  warn  the  force  that  was 
already  at  the  threatened  point. 

The  south  tenements,  as  they  were 
called,    composed    a     large     brick     block, 

owned    by  the  B Corporation,  and   let 

to  those  in  their  employ. 


300      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

They  had  been  undergoing  repairs  and 
were  unoccupied  at  the  time  of  the  strike  ; 
the  repairs,  however,  were  just  completed. 
The  block  was  adjacent  to  the  mill  itself; 
and,  enclosed  on  three  sides  by  the  mill 
flume  and  river.  They  could  only  be 
approached  by  a  single  street,  that  led  to 
one  end  of  the  block  and  followed  around 
its  wall,  ending  at  the  flume.  These  facts 
had  determined  their  occupanc}^  b}^  the 
non-union  workmen,  as  they  were  easily 
watched  and  could  be  defended  by  a  com- 
paratively small  force,  if  properly  posted. 

As  the  crowd  gathered  and  began  to 
move  forward,  some  of  the  empt3'-handed 
were  given  revolvers,  by  the  leading  spirits, 
who  seemed  to  have  a  few  to  spare,  and,  as 
they  came  opposite  the  store  of  our  friend 
Jones,  a  man  called  out,  ''  He's  got  some 
pistols  in  there  and  axes!  let's  go  for  them;  " 
and  six  or  eight  men  sprang  upon  .the  store 


Lawlessness,  301 


porch,  and  thundered  at  the  door.  It  was 
rather  a  rickety  affair,  and,  as  it  was  not 
opened,  they  put  their  shoulders  against  it, 
and  it  readily  yielded. 

Mr.  Jones  was  about  going  home  for  the 
nic^ht,  to  retire  and  dream  of  his  rather 
depressing  business  affairs,  when  he  heard 
a  great  noise  in  the  street  and,  presently, 
a  violent  knocking  at  his  door,  in  which 
he  had  only  turned  the  key.  As  he 
sprang  forward  to  throw  the  heavy  wooden 
bar  across,  fully  realizing  that  this  was  no 
ordinary  summons,  he  instinctively  seized 
an  axe  from  a  little  stack  by  the  counter 
end,  reaching  the  door  just  as  it  gave  way 
to  the  efforts  of  the  rioters.  At  a  glance 
he  took  in  the  exact  situation  of  affairs. 
Before  him  were  half  a  dozen  powerful  men, 
just  straightening  themselves  from  their 
push,  and  about  to  step  across  the  threshold; 
while  behind  them,  and  dimly  seen   in  the 


302       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

dark,  the  crowd  nearly  filling  the  street  was 
pressing  by,  with  shouts,  and  sound  of  many 
feet.     But  he  did  not  flinch. 

The  fierce  blood  of  his  pagan  Welch 
ancestry,  thickened  w^th  later  puritanic 
determination,  was  up  instantly,  and  this 
usually  quiet  citizen  had  become  dangerous. 

"  I'll  split  the  head  of  the  first  man  that 
crosses  that  door!  "  he  exclaimed,  in  unmis- 
takeable  tones,  swinging  his  axe  around  his 
head  like  a  feather. 

"  Come  on,  you  sneaking  hounds !  " 
shouted  he,  in  growing  excitement;  "you 
ain't  around  behind  some  poor  fellow,  this 
time!  you're  in  front  of  a  man  who  means 
death!" 

The  men  hesitated.  —  They  did  not  like 
his  looks.  The  door  was  narrow  and  one 
certainly  must  go  down  if  they  per- 
sisted. The  crowd,  also,  w^ere  leaving 
them   behind. 


Lawlessness,  303 


"Let's  go,"  said  the  foremost;  "it  ain't 
worth  while  wasting  time  here."  And  they 
jumped  down  the  steps  and  ran  after  the 
others,  while  Mr.  Jones  quietly  lowered  his 
axe  and  put  up  the  bar. 

Many  of  the  crowd  remained  unarmed, 
only  adding  the  momentum  and  courage 
of  numbers  to  the  movement. 

It  was  hardly  nine  o'clock  when  the  mob 
turned  into  the  short  street  leading  to  the 
South  tenements.  They  had  gone  but 
a  short  distance  when,  by  one  of  those 
checks  communicated  from  front  to  rear 
almost  instantaneously,  it  stood  still,  as  a 
commanding  voice  rang  out,  in  front:  — 

"  Halt,  there !  Stand  —  or  we  shall  fire 
into  you! " 

The  men  looked  in  each  other's  faces  for 
an  instant,  and  then  shouts  arose: — "Get  on 
there!"  —  "Damn  the  police!" — "Run  over 
'em!"— "Kill  them!" 


304       The  Strike  in  the  IB Mill. 

Then  the  loud  voice  toward  the  head  of 
the  street  was  again  heard  through  the 
crowd.  It  was  that  of  George  Brayton, 
w^ho  had  returned  to  the  village  and  joined 
the  reserve  police  force  at  this  place  during 
the  evening,  and  now  stood  on  the  upper 
step  of  a  house  porch,  and  but  a  few  paces 
in  front  of  the  leading  files  of  the  mob; 
being  slightly  above  them,  his  voice  could 
be  heard  far  down  the  street. 

"  As  a  magistrate,  I  order  you  to  dis- 
perse! "  he  said,  "  and  if — " 

He  was  here  interrupted  by  the  shouts  of 
the  mob,  that,  however,  did  not  yet  ad- 
vance. 

"  You  get  away —  you,  and  your  police!  " 
said  a  man  called  O'D.onnell,  stepping  from 
the  front  ranks.  "  We  are  armed  and  mean 
business,  and  are  too  many  for  you." 

"  Stop!  "  shouted  Brayton,  as  a  movement 
began  in  the  crowd.     "  We  will  not  allow 


JLaivIessjiess,  305 

you  to  injure  people  and  property  in  this 
town!  We  are  here  to  prevent  it,  and  we 
shall  do  so!" 

The  police,  perhaps  twenty-five  in  num- 
ber, a  select  body  of  men,  vigorous  of  frame 
and  stout  of  heart,  were  formed  across  the 
street,  every  man  club  in  hand,  and  with  a 
revolver  in  his  belt.  Behind  them  might 
have  been  about  an  equal  number  of  special 
police,  and  watchmen  who  had  come  from 
the  tenements   and  mill  yard.     The  captain 

of  the  police  from  M stood  in  advance 

of  his  line,  coolly  looking  into  the  angry 
faces,  not  more  than  twenty  paces  in  front 
of  him  and  glancing  at  Brayton. 

The  superintendent  of  the  mill  and  INIr. 
Alston  stood  on  the  sidewalk  near  him. 
They  had  been  conversing  in  the  mill  office 
when  a  watchman  told  them  that  a  mob 
was  starting  for  the  tenements;  and  they 
had  gone  across  and  joined  Brayton  and  the 


3o6      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

police  detachment  a  few  minutes  before, 
with  a  desire  to  "  bear  a  hand,  and  take 
in  all  that  there  was  going,"  as  Alston 
expressed  it  to  the  police  captain.  Alston 
was  not  a  man  to  be  much  troubled  with 
fears  for  his  own  safety,  and,  as  Bray  ton 
was  speaking,  he  stepped  up  to  the  men, 
who  had  gradually  worked  forward,  and 
stood  in  advance  of  the  crowd. 

"  Look  here,  men,"  he  said  in  a  loud 
voice,  as  Brayton  finished,  "don't  you  make 
damned  fools  of  yourselves  in  this  way! 
You  know  me, —  I've  done  all  I  could  to 
patch  up  matters.  Now  just  drop  this  non- 
sense and  go  home,  like  good  fellows,  and 
come  and  see  me,  some  of  you,  to-morrow, 
and  settle  matters  in  a  more  rational  wa}^" 

"Yes,"  shouted  a  gigantic  weaver; 
"you're  a  good  man,  Mr.  Alston;  but 
when  your  mill  hires  scabs  we  won't  stand 
it.     For  God's  sake  look  out,  sir  —  you'll  be 


Lawlessness, 


307 


killed!"  he  added,  seizing  him  suddenly, 
and  pushing  him  roughly  across  the  side- 
walk into  a  door-way. 

For  at  that  moment  a  man  in  the  crowd, 
apparently  weary  of  the  slight  delay  in 
front,  deliberately  aimed  his  revolver  at 
Brayton  and  fired.  The  ball  went  wide 
of  the  mark;  but  the  discharge  put  an  end 
to  farther  parley,  and  the  mob  pressed 
tumultuously  upon  the  line  of  police. 

"Forward,  men!  "  sung  out  the  captain; 
"let  them  have  it!"  In  a  moment  the 
fight  became  general. 

Just  as  the  first  shot  was  fired,  Darragh, 
who  had  arrived  in  town  a  few  minutes  be- 
fore, and,  learning  of  what  was  going  for- 
ward, had  followed  the  mob  and  pushed 
his  way  through  it  to  the  front,  appealing  at 
every  step  to  the  men  to  give  over  their 
mad  purpose.  As  he  reached  the  front  he 
shouted:  "  For  God's  sake,  men,  are  you  all 


3o8      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

crazy!  The  order  will  not  stand  by  you,  if 
this  goes  on.  Stop!  stop!"  It  was  too 
late.  His  words  were  drowned  in  the 
shouts  and  execrations  of  the  suro:ino: 
crowd.  Carried  forward  and  ahiiost  off 
his  feet  by  the  rush,  he  received,  the  next 
instant,  a  crushing  blow  on-  the  head,  and 
dropped  to  the  ground,  insensible. 

As  Darragh  forced  his  way  to  the  front, 
another  man  quietly  sneaked  from  the  rear 
of  the  crowd,  and  crept  up  a  side  street  —  a 
short,  fat  man,  with  a  black  beard.  It  was 
the  Anarchist,  seeking  cover,  after  the  man- 
ner of  his  kind.  His  gross  face  was  pale 
and  flabby,  and  his  labored  breath  and 
rapid  step,  as  he  made  good  time  up  the 
cross  street,  sufficiently  indicated  his  heroic 
determination  to  live  yet  longer  for  the 
cause  that  supported  him  in  vicious  idle- 
ness, and  supplied  him  with  beer.  "  Mein 
Gott!   but  dot  vash  dancherous!"  he  mut- 


Lawlessness,  309 


tered,   as   he   heard   the  pistol-shots  in    his 
rear. 

Meanwhile,  things  were  exceedingly 
warm  towards  the  head  of  the  street. 

The  police,  striking  right  and  left,  were 
at  first  borne  back  by  the  weight  and  rush 
of  the  mob,  but,  as  every  man,  with  the 
quiet  intrepidity  that  usually  characterizes 
them,  kept  his  face  to  the  front,  and  used 
his  heavy  club  with  zeal  and  precision,  they 
soon  began  to  hold  and  gain  ground. 

They  were  well  supported  by  those  in 
their  rear,  who  filled  all  breaches  in  the  line. 
Many  of  the  leading  spirits  of  the  mob 
were  knocked  down,  and  when  the  police 
began  to  return  the  fusillade  of  the  rioters 
with  their  own  revolvers,  the  crowd  wavered, 
began  to  run,  and  in  an  incredibly  brief 
time  melted  away.  A  few  men  in  the 
hands  of  the  police  and  some  others  Ij'ing 
in  the  street  where  they  fell,  were  in  a  few 


3IO       The  St7'ike  m  the  B Mill, 

minutes  all  that  were  left  of  the  formidable 
body  that  just  before  was  menacing  the 
peace  of  the  town. 

While  the  conflict  was  at  its  height,  John 
Vance,  on  his  way  home,  had  paused  far 
down  the  street,  as  he  heard  the  angry  roar 
of  the  mob  and  noise  of  the  combat.  He 
stood  but  a  moment  when  several  shots 
admonished  him  of  his  dano^er,  for  he  was 
directly  in  the  line  of  fire,  and  he  was  in 
the  act  of  turning  to  go  when  a  44-calibre 
bullet  struck  him  full  in  the  breast. 

He  started  convulsively,  turned  slowly 
around,  and,  throwing  up  one  hand,  as  if  in 
unconscious  remonstrance,  toward  heaven, 
he  fell  upon  his  face,  dead. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AFTER    THE    EMEUTE. 

T^HE  police  cleared  the  ground  at  once 
of  their  wounded  comrades,  and  se- 
cured their  prisoners,  mostly  men  who  had 
been  more  or  less  injured. 

Some  of  the  strikers,  but  slightly  hurt, 
managed  to  get  to  their  feet  and  take  them- 
selves off  before  they  could  be  apprehended. 

Darragh  came  to  himself,  leaning  upon  the 
arm  of  the  superintendent,  who  had  recog- 
nized him  as  he  pushed  through  the  crowd 
at  the  beginning  of  the  affray. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  superinten- 
dent, "I  hope  you're  not  much  hurt;  you 
did  your  best  to  stop  this,  any  way." 

"No,  I'm  not  much   hurt,"  replied  Dar- 

3" 


312       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

ragh;  "but,  God  help  us,  this  is  a  terrible 
piece  of  business."  He  rose  to  his  feet 
with  difficulty,  and  staggered  against  the 
wall  of  a  building.  "  Yes,  it  is  a  bad  bus- 
iness," said  the  superintendent;  "this  is 
what  cQmes  of  3^our  wretched  '  Associates 
of  Toil '  silliness.  Perhaps  you  see  it 
now,"  he  added,  a  little  ungenerously,  for 
he  was  excited  and  angry  at  this  senseless 
outbreak. 

Darragh  looked  at  him  with  a  dazed  ex- 
pression. 

"I  can't  talk  of  it  3'et,"  he  said,  slowly; 
"  I  must  go  and  see  that  there  be  no  more 
mischief  done."  And,  rallying  himself,  he 
went  down  the  street  with  uncertain  steps. 

"Who  is  this?"  said  a  policeman,  as  he 
turned  a  body  over.  "  He  is  quite  dead, 
and  no  wonder,"  he  added  as  he  saw  the 
bullet  wound  over  the  heart. 

As    the    body  was    turned,  and    the    rays 


After  the  Emeute.  313 

from  a  street-lamp  shining  through  its  shat- 
tered glass,  streamed  over  the  handsome 
face,  its  expression  was  peaceful  and  quiet, 
as  of  one  who  sleeps.  The  captain  came 
up  and  stooped  over  the  body.  One  hand 
of  the  dead  man  was  clutching  sornething 
white,  and  removing  it  from  the  stiffening 
fingers,  he  found  it  to  be  an  unopened  letter, 
and  read  the  direction.  "  Mrs.  John  Vance," 
he  muttered.  "  Do  you  know  a  John  Vance, 
Mr.  Malcolm  ?  "  he  said  to  the  superinten- 
dent, who   had  stopped  by  his  side. 

"  Know  him  ?  why,  he  was  our  best  ma- 
chinist. Good  God,  is  this  poor  Vance!" 
he  exclaimed,  kneeling  by  the  body. 
"Poor  fellow,  poor  fellow!  he  never 
meant  to  be  in  this  thing!  He  told  me, 
only  a  day  or  two  ago,  that  he  was  going 
up  to  New  Hampshire.  He  was  sick  of 
the  strike,  and  wished  he  had  never  been  in 
it."       The  superintendent's  voice  trembled. 


314      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill 

"I  liked  that  man,"  he  added;  "and 
here  is  the  end  of  him!  " 

"What  shall  be  done  with  the  body?" 
said  the  captain;  "and  here  is  this  letter; 
it  was  in  his  hand." 

"I  will  take  it  to  his  wife,"  said  the 
superintendent,  still  looking  sadly  at  the 
dead  man;  "and  you  will  send  the  body 
there.     I  will  prepare  her,  poor  woman!  " 

And  at  midnight  poor  Mary  Vance  sat 
with  staring  eyes  by  the  body  of  her  hus- 
band. An  open  letter  lay  upon  the  floor, 
at  her  feet.  It  was  only  a  few  lines,  writ- 
ten by  a  hand  that  had  oftener  guided  the 
plough  than  the  pen  ;  but  how  welcome 
it  would  have  been  to  her  a  few  hours 
before. 

"Dear  Mary,"  it  ran;  "I  am  pleased  to 
have  you  and  John  come.  He  can  have 
work  with  me  this  winter  if  he  wants  to.  I 
send   you    a   money  order    for   twenty-five 


After  the  J&meute,  315 

dollars;  it  will  be  enough  to  bring  you 
here.  Come  right  away  and  we'll  talk 
over  things  when  you  get  here. 

"  Your  afFec.  father, 

"Enoch  Page. 
"  P.  S.     I  want  to  see  the  children  very 
much." 

Ellen  Hardy's  anxiety  was  not  relieved 
until  late  in  the  evening.  Her  father  had 
declined  to  heed  the  advice  of  Brayton,  and 
started  out  to  find  the  Catholic  priest  and 
see  if  they  together  could  not  reach  some 
of  the  men  and  avert  the  impending 
trouble. 

But  the  people  they  sought  did  not  go  to 
the  meeting  at  the  hall,  and  had  no  part  in 
the  disturbance.  Their  good  intentions  were 
futile,  and  it  was  only  after  the  riot  that 
they  were  able  to  do  something  in  aid  of 
the  injured. 


3i6      The  Strike  Z7i  the  B Mill, 

When  the  minister  reached  home,  Ellen 
had  just  learned  of  what  had  happened. 

"  Take  me  down  there,  father,"  she  said, 
when  told  of  Vance's  death;  '^  take  me 
down  to  see  that  poor  Mrs.  Vance.  I  want 
to  go  now.  She  must  not  be  alone  in  her 
sorrow." 

"  Had  you  not  better  wait  until  the  morn- 
ing, my  daughter;  I  have  been  there,  and 
everything  possible  has  been  done  for  her 
to-night." 

But  Ellen  insisted,  and,  know^ing  that  her 
woman's  instinct  was  a  safer  guide  in  such 
matters  than  his  own,  he  accompanied  her 
back  through  the  rainy  night,  for  the  mist 
had  now  merged  into  a  steady  rain. 

It  was  a  little  after  seven  on  the  followinof 
morning,  and  Ellen  was  about  returning  to 
her  home,  leaving  matters  in  the  hands  of 
some  kind  women  who  were  anxious  to  be 
of  use  to  their  poor  neighbor,  when  a  knock 


After  the  Ameute,  317 

came  at  the  door,  and  Ellen  opened  it. 
Hines  and  the  other  remaining  member  of 
the  finance  committee  stood  in  the  entry. 
Taking  off  his  hat  as  Ellen  appeared,  Hines 
asked  if  they  could  see  Mrs.  Vance. 

"What  do  you  wish  with  her?"  said 
Ellen. 

"  Well,  Miss  Hardy,"  replied  Hines,  who 
knew  her,  "  you'd  do  as  well  perhaps. 
We're  all  feeling  very  bad  about  last  night's 
business,  and  poor  Vance.  We  had  a  little 
money  in  our  hands,  and  wanted  to  give  her 
some  of  it  to  help  her.  The  strike  is  over; 
they'll  not  need  it  no  more — the  others. 
You'll  take  it  for  her,  ma'am,  perhaps?"  he 
added. 

He  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  but  it  had  been 
heard  in  the  room;  and,  as  Ellen  hesitated 
whether  or  not  to  accept  what  they  offered, 
the  handle  of  the  door  was  removed  from 
her   grasp,    and,    turning,    she    found    Mrs. 


3i8       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

Vance  standing  by  her  side  in  the  door- 
way. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said,  in  a  constrained 
tone  to  the  men,  taking  no  notice  of  Ellen, 
who  saw  that  her  eyes  had  a  strange, 
wild  gleam.  "  I  want  you  in  here  a  mo- 
ment." 

The  men  looked  at  her  with  pity  and 
some  surprise.  They  hesitated  and  were 
reluctant  to  enter,  but  as  she  stood  holding 
the  door  open  for  them  to  pass,  with  her 
eyes  fixed  upon  them,  they  seemed  con- 
strained to  obey,  and  followed  her  to  the 
side  of  the  bed  where  her  husband's  body 
was  stretched  out,  covered  by  the  sheet, 
awaiting  its  coffin.  She  removed  the  cloth 
from  the  face,  and  turned  to  them. 

"  You  must  not  come  to  me  with  money 
—  you  ^Associates  of  Toil'!"  she  said. 
The  men  looked  at  her,  and  then  on  the 
cold  white  features  of  the  dead  man;  sor- 


After  the  Emeute,  319 

rowfully  enough,  for  all  had  liked  bright, 
kind-hearted  John  Vance. 

"  Money  will  not  undo  this  work  of 
yours,  "  she  went  on,  still  in  the  same  un- 
natural voice;  "I  wanted  you  to  see  it.  If 
it  had  not  been  for  your  order,  he  and  I 
would  be  happy  together  to-day."  She 
pointed  to  the  face  as  she  spoke.  ^^Go!" 
she  added,  in  a  voice  fast  stifling  with  tears, 
and,  falling  on  her  knees  by  the  bedside, 
she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  cried 
bitterly. 

The  poor  men,  who  had  meant  her  only 
kindness,  grew  red  and  pale,  then  turned, 
and,  with  a  helpless,  grieved  look,  went 
slowly  out  of  the  room,  forgetting  their 
errand,  in  the  presence  of  her  sorrow,  and 
cut  to  the  heart  by  her  w^ords;  for  they 
could  not  feel  that  they  were  wholly  un- 
deserved. 

George   Bra3'ton  found  Ellen   at  home  a 


320      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

few  hours  later,  looking  sad  and  weary  from 
her  painful  vigil  of  the  night. 

After  their  first  greetings,  he  remarked 
presently :  "  Well,  at  least,  dear,  the  wretched 
business  of  last  night  has  ended  the  strike. 
They  are  going  into  the  mill,  all  hands; 
where  they  still,  most  of  them,  can  find 
room  —  thanks  to  Malcolm  and  Alston." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  the  women  told  me 
that  they  were  going  back  this  afternoon. 
But,  George,  there's  much  they  cannot 
repair  or   forget." 

"  Have  you  been  all  night  at  the  Vances', 
Ellen?  "  he  asked,  gently. 

"  Yes.  George,  that  poor  Mrs.  Vance  is 
almost  heart-broken.  I  can  think  of  noth- 
ing else  but  her  sorrow.  Her  husband  was 
such  a  handsome,  manly  fellow." 

"  She  will  want  money,"  said  Brayton. 
"  Let  me  give  you  what  is  wanted." 

"  No.     Mr.  Alston  sent  me  a  check   for 


Afte}' the  l&meute,  321 

her  this  morning,  that  is  more  than  suffi- 
cient. A  committee  of  the  '  Associates  of 
Toil '  came  while  I  was  there  and  offered 
her  money." 

"That's  like  their  impudence,"  said  Bray- 
ton. 

"No,  George,  she  answered.  "These 
men  meant  it  kindly,  I  am  sure;  and  they 
were  very,  very  sorry  for  her.  But  she 
heard  them,  and  herself  refused.  I  thought 
that  she  was  insane  for  the  moment,  her 
excitement  was  so  great.  She  held  them 
responsible  for  his  death." 

"Well,  so  they  are,"  said  Bra3ton;  "and 
not  so  remotely  either.  I  tell  you,  Ellen," 
he  added,  warmly,  "  this  thing  has  shown 
me  the  utter  hollowness  of  the  pacific,  law- 
abiding  utterances  of  this  organization. 
For,  in  the  face  of  them,  everywhere,  their 
members  commit  all  sorts  of  excesses,  and 
they  never  expel  them  or  mark  their  disap- 


322      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

probation  of  such  conduct  in  the  slightest 
practical  manner;  and  if  any  advantage 
results  to  the  order  by  reason  of  them, 
which,  fortunately,  is  seldom,  they  triumph- 
antly use  it,  ignoring  the  means  that  pro- 
duced the  end." 

"It  is  difficult,  indeed,"  said  Ellen,  "to 
see  how  they  can  escape  responsibility  if 
they  allow  these  things  to  be  done." 

"They  remind  me,"  Brayton  went  on, 
"  of  the  Indian  Chiefs  whom  I  once  saw  in 
a  council  in  Colorado  after  some  massacres 
had  been  committed  by  their  tribe.  They 
told  the  army  officers,  with  much  smoking 
of  pipes  and  professions  of  the  highest 
esteem,  'that  they  couldn't  help  it;  they 
couldn't  control  their  young  men,  who  were 
hot-blooded,'  etc.,  etc.  And  on  their  per- 
sons at  the  same  moment  were  trinkets  torn 
from  the  murdered  emigrant  women,  and 
some  of  them  rode  stolen  white  men's 
horses  to  the   council." 


After  the  Emeute.  323 

''  Well,  George,"  she  answered,  "  many 
of  these  men  are  misled,  I  am  sure,  and  do 
not  recognize  wrong  under  a  specious  guise 
of  hio^h-soundino^  words." 

The   minister   came   in    at   this    moment. 

Like  everybody  in  F ,  he  was  full  of  the 

all-absorbing  topic. 

"  Ah,  George,"  he  said,  with  a  pleased 
tone,  "  out  of  evil  the  Lord  hath  brought 
good.  How  glad  I  am  to  be  told  that  this 
strike  is  over." 

"  Yes,  it  is  over,"  said  Brayton. 

"  For  the  sake  of  those  who  have  suf- 
fered," continued  Mr.  Hardy,  "  I  am  truly 
thankful.  George,"  he  added,  thoughtfully, 
as  he  seated  himself  in  his  arm-chair, 
"  do  you  know  that  the  wrong-headedness 
of  these  people  has  been  more  than  re- 
deemed by  other  traits  that  have  been 
brought  into  strong  relief  by  their  hard- 
ships .^  " 


324      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

"/  know  it,  father,"  said  Ellen;  "I  have 
seen  it." 

"  If,  George,"  continued  the  minister, 
"  you  had  seen,  as  we  have,  the  noble  self- 
sacrifice  and  thoughtful  care  for  others  — 
the  strong  feeling  and  quick  sympathies 
among  them,  you  would  have  learned  to 
love  them,  even  as  I   do." 

"And  yet,"  said  George,  "for  the  sake  of 
an  absurdity,  they  were  oppressively  unjust 
to  the  non-union  men,  and  gave  over  their 
own  flesh  and  blood  to  suffering." 

"  It  only  shows,"  answered  Mr.  Hardy, 
"  that  a  single  error  may  warp  and  destroy 
the  symmetry  of  the  noblest  natures.  But 
God,"  he  added  solemnly,  "  has  for  his  own 
wise  purposes  created  us  all  weak  and  im- 
perfect. We  can  only  strive  for  the  best. 
Who  among  us  can  hope  to  attain  it  — 
nay,  even  witness  it  —  on  this  side  of 
heaven?"     .     .     . 


After  the  E^neute,  325 

As  it  is  said  that  the  long  sustained  fire 
of  artillery,  by  its  repeated  concussions,  will 
produce  marked  atmospheric  changes  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  battle-field,  so,  figuratively 
speaking,  the  revolver-shots  of  that  night 
seemed  to  clear  the  air  and  dispel  the  moral 
miasma  of  obstinate  persistence  in  wrong, 
sustained  by  fear,  and  signalized  by  brutal- 
ity and  injustice,  that  had  so  long  brooded 
over  this  once  peaceful  community.  To  do 
them  justice,  a  large  number  of  the  strikers 
could  under  no  consideration  have  been 
drawn  into  the  riot,  and  were  satisfied  with 
its  summary  suppression.  None  the  less  true, 
however,  was  it  that  if  it  had  succeeded  in 
its  purpose,  and  the  non-union  men  been 
driven  from  their  work,  these  same  men 
would  have  reaped  such  advantage  as  might 
have  resulted  from  it,  and  it  would  then  have 
been  proclaimed  far  and  wide  that  the  "  As- 
sociates of  Toil"  had  succeeded  in  this  strike. 


326       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill 

As  things  now  stood,  the  leaders  and 
their  lawless  follow^ers  abandoned  the 
game,  and,  indeed,  a  considerable  number, 
who  had  been,  as  they  feared,  recognized 
that  night,  had  decamped  at  once;  some 
others  were  in  custody,  and  the  main  body 
of  the  strikers,  by  common  consent,  treated 
the  strike  as  over. 

No  further  regard  was  paid  to  their  late 
organization.  It  was  as  if  it  had  never 
been:  and  men  and  women  once  more 
acted  like  free  and  independent  citizens. 
Quite  illogically,  but  rather  naturally,  all 
treated  the  failure  of  the  rioters  as  a  settle- 
ment of  the  whole  matter  of  the  non-union 
men,  and  also  as  stamping  the  order  of  the 
"Associates  of  Toil"  as  a  failure,  and  of  no 

further  value,  in  F at  least.     Elsewhere 

it  miorht  take  care  of  itself  It  was  no 
longfer  concern  of  theirs. 

All    remaining,  applied    for  work  at   the 


After  the  £meute,  327 

mill  forthwith,  and  received  it  at  the  rates 
of  wages  recently  established,  without  any 
allusion  to  the  past,  except  in  the  cases  of  a 
very  few,  who  were  believed  to  have  been 
concerned  in  some  acts  of  violence. 

The  superintendent  and  Alston  were  not 
influenced  by  the  last  events  to  alter  their 
policy  with  regard  to  this  matter,  and,  in 
spite  of  a  little  bluster  on  the  part  of  some 
of  the  corporation,  who  were  naturally  in- 
censed at  this  incendiary  attempt,  the  people 
came  back. 

In  the  search,  by  the  authorities,  for  those 
known  to  be  implicated  in  the  riot,  some 
inquiry  was  made  for  Kohler  the  anarchist, 
and  it  was  ascertained  that  he  had  boarded 
the  train,  going  West,  that  passed  through 
F at  ten  on  that  evenino:. 

He  was  seen  there  no  more;  but,  a 
week  later,  a  copy  of  an  Anarchist  sheet 
found  its  way  into  the  hands  of  a   German 


328      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

operative,  who,  entirely  sick  of  such  stuff, 
for  the  present  at  least,  pointed  out  its  lead- 
ing editorial  to  the  superintendent  with  a  grin. 

It  was  a  poorly  printed  little  seven-by- 
nine  publication,  full  of  the  most  inconceiv- 
able rubbish,  and  the  article  in  question, 
being  freely  translated  to  Mr.  Malcolm,  ran 
something  in  this  wise:  — 

"The  strike  against  oppression  in   F 

has  failed,  because  of  the  pusillanimity  of 
the  oppressed  ones.  The  Brother  Kohler, 
there  for  many  weeks,  was  seeking  them  to 
inspire  with  his  eloquence.  He  it  was  who 
them  against  the  robber-baron-castle  led. 
Heroically  he  himself  exposed,  and  dared 
the  death  from  bloody  police  murderers. 
But  all  in  vain.     They  would  have  left  him 

to  alone  die.     He   has  the  dust  of  F 

from  his  grand  feet  shaken,  and  them  left  to 
grovel  before  the  oppressor.  There  let 
them  lie.     Bah!" 


After  the  E7neute,  329 

In  a  few  days,  the  town  resumed  its 
usual  appearance.  Boycotts  were  all  "off." 
The  non-union  men  and  those  who  had 
been  "  Associates  of  Toil  "  fraternized,  as 
though  there  never  had  been  the  least  feel- 
ing existing  between  them.  The  greater 
and  minor  industries  of  the  town  were  re- 
sumed,  and   the   strike  in    the    B Mill 

became  only  a  matter  of  history. 

ffut  its  baleful  effects  could  not  be  read- 
ily effaced.  Many  a  poor  operative  and 
struggling  family  had  good  reason  to  wish 
that  it  had  never  been. 

Some  adults  and  a  number  of  poor  little 
children,  had  succumbed  to  the  suffer- 
ing and  want  of  that  wretched  time; 
while,  from  the  effects  of  insufficient 
food,  and  the  lack  of  the  common  com- 
forts of  life  then  endured,  some  could 
not  rally,  and  the  succeeding  winter  was 
full    of    sickness,   that   brought    death    and 


330       The  Strike  in  the  B AlilL 

sorrow  into  many  families.  The  business 
of  the  village  had  received  serious  injury; 
v^hile  the  great  corporation  itself,  left  be- 
hind in  the  close  competitive  struggle  w^ith 
its  rivals,  was  obliged  to  enter  upon  a 
course  of  careful  management,  with  re- 
duced working  and  production,  felt  alike  by 
its  stockholders  and  by  the  operatives,  — 
and  the  outcome  of  it  all  is  not  yet. 

Poor  Mary  Vance  buried  her  husband, 
and,  with  her  children,  went,  a  broken- 
hearten  woman,  to  her  old  home,  there  to 
endure  for  many  years  a  life  embittered  by 
the  terrible  events  of  that  night. 

Sitting  b}^  the  door  one  summer  evening, 
her  father  passed,  on  his  way  from  the  field. 
He  was  an  old  man,  somewhat  bowed  by 
the  heavy  labor  of  a  lifetime.  But  his  eye 
was  clear,  and  in  the  tired  look  on  his  face 
there  was  no  shadow  of  discontent.     Lead- 


After  the  Em euie.  331 

ing  an  even  and  calm  life  among  the  fields 
and  forests  of  his  native  mountains,  his 
struo-orle  for  a  livelihood  had  never  been 
with  his  fellow-men,  but  with  the  yielding 
and  generous  soil,  aided  by  the  kindly  forces 
of  nature.  Far  from  the  bustle  and  rush  of 
town  life,  he  needed  its  meretricious  excite- 
ment as  little  as  he  longed  for  its  unsatisfy- 
ing pleasures.  And  Mary  thought,  as  she 
looked  at  him,  how  much  more  life  had 
been  to  him  than  to  those  others  among 
whom  she  had  lived  so  many  years;  and, 
with  unutterable  longing,  she  thought  of  her 
poor  husband,  who  had  nearly  reached  this 
place. 

"Ah,  how  happy  we  should  have  been 
here  together!  —  oh,  John  —  John!  "  she 
murmured,  with  her  face  in  her  hands. 
And  her  little  boy  ran  from  his  play 
to  see  what  was  the  matter  with  poor 
mamma.     .     .     . 


332       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

"  Waal,  mother,"  observed  Mr.  Brad- 
shaw,  when  he  understood  that  the  strike 
was  over,  and  had,  with  great  interest,  lis- 
tened to  the  particulars  of  the  riot,  "  them 
fellers  didn't  make  much  out  of  their  darned 
tomfoolery,  I  cal'late.  Ye'U  remember  what 
I've  allers  said  baout  these  blamed  "Asso- 
ciates of  Toil."  I  expect  Eb'U  be  a-gittin' 
a  bullet-hole  in  his  little  carcass  in  a  few 
days,  ef  he  don't  quit  strikin.'  Naow,  ez  I 
wuz  a  sayin'  "  — 

"  You  wuz  always  a  sayin'  a  sight  too 
much,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Bradshaw,  inci- 
sively. "  If  I  was  3^ou,  I'd  take  that  there 
candle  and  go  to  bed." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


CONCLUSION. 


A  BOUT  a  week  after  the  conclusion  of 
^  ^  the  strike,  Alston  was  sitting  with  his 
wife  in  his  library,  and  with  them  was  Mr. 
Phillips,  who  had  been  beguiled  from  his 
usual  evening  haunts  by  that  little  lady's 
invitation  to  dine  a  second  time  with  them. 

An  incorrigible  club-man,  and  a  bachelor 
of  so  many  years'  standing  that  the  ladies 
had  long  since  given  him  up,  even  as  he 
had  them, — he  rarely  went  into  society,  and 
was  usually  left  in  peace  to  his  whist  at  the 
club,  or  an  occasional  little  dinner  where 
only  gentlemen  appeared.  But  he  had 
chosen  in  this  case  to  break  over  his  rule 
and  accept  her  invitation;  so,  confirming 
333    ' 


334      ^^^^  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

her  preconceived  opinion  of  his  sound  judg- 
ment and  great  discrimination.  He  made 
himself  ver}^  agreeable  during  dinner,  and 
Mrs.  Alston  felt  in  herself  the  consciousness 
of  a  new  social  power  as  this  ancient  re- 
cluse, hitherto  considered  impervious  to 
woman's  fascination,  unbent  to  her  efforts  to 
make  things  pleasant.  When,  to  her  sugges- 
tion that  they  adjourn  to  the  library  where 
the  gentlemen  could  smoke  without  depriv- 
ing her  of  their  society,  Mr.  Phillips  gal- 
lantly responded  that  there  were  some 
women  for  whom  one  could  almost  abjure 
the  use  of  the  Indian  weed  forever.  She 
felt  that  this  inveterate  woman-hater  was, 
indeed,  at  last  conquered,  and  led  the  way 
to  the  library  with  the  air  of  a  genuine  little 
queen  of  hearts. 

Alston  had  learned  to  like  Mr.  Phillips 
for  his  innate  kindness  of  heart,  and  was 
delighted  to  see  him  thaw  out  in  this  man- 


Conclusion.  335 


ner  and  the  party  was  a  very  pleasant  one. 
The  conversation  during  dinner  had  been 
varied,  but,  as  they  lighted  their  cigars,  it 
drifted  around  to  the  old  topic  of  the  event 
that  had  recently  occupied  so  much  of  their 
attention. 

"Are  you  not  greatly  relieved,  Mr.  Phil- 
lips," said  Mrs.  Alston,  "  that  our  wretched 
strike  has  ended?" 

"  I  am,  indeed,"  he  responded. 

"And,"  she  continued,  "it  must  be  so 
gratifying  to  you  that  your  kindness  and 
long  suffering  with  the  people  has  enabled 
the  most  of  them  to  regain  their  old  places, 
and  be  preserved  from  want." 

"  Madam,"  replied  the  president,  urbanely, 
as  he  bowed  to  his  hostess,  "  3^ou  do  me  far 
too  much  honor;  Alston,  here,"  he  added, 
waving  his  cigar  towards  her  husband, 
"  backed  by  you,  was,  I  suspect,  the  great 
philanthropist  of  our  little  drama." 


33^      The  Strike  in  the  B AlilL 

Mr.  Phillips  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and 
smoked  industriously. 

"  And,"  persisted  Mrs.  Alston,  laughing, 
"  backed  by  you,  too,  with  advice  and  with 
money,  as  I  happen  to  know." 

Mr.  Phillips  looked  a  little  annoyed. 

"  Yes,"  went  on  Mrs.  Alston.  "  I  know 
all  about  your  noble  generosity,  Mr.  Phil- 
lips.    It  is  idle  for  you  to  attempt  denial." 

Mr.  Phillips  looked  at  Alston  with  an  air 
of  patient  disapproval. 

"  You  married  men,"  he  said,  relapsing, 
in  his  disgust,  into  his  usual  concise  style, 
"  keep  nothing;  —  unsafe  —  very." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Phillips,"  said  Alston,  laugh- 
ing in  a  rather  abashed  way,  "  if  you  were 
married,  you  would  have  some  consideration 
for  a  fellow;  —  for  these  w^omen  are  the 
most  insidious,  wheedling"  — 

"  Ned,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Alston,  "  how 
dare  you!     Mr.  Phillips,"  she  added,  turn- 


Conclusion, 


337 


ing  to  that  gentleman,  over  whose  face  a 
sardonic  smile  might  be  seen  spreading,  like 
the  light  of  the  rising  moon  upon  a  rugged 
landscape,  "  Mr.  Phillips,  I  assure  you  that 
our  husbands  willt^W  us  everything,  whether 
we  want  to  hear  it  or  not.  Fortunately,  we 
get  a  little  grain  out  of  all  the  chaff." 

Alston  smiled  and  coughed  significantly, 
but  wisely  held  his  peace. 

"  I  think,"  continued  Mrs.  Alston,  with  a 
radiant  smile,  "  that  Mr.  Phillips  now  un- 
derstands the  matter  perfectly ;  and  I  am 
quite  sure  that  he  will  forgive  my  innocent 
knowledge  of  his  kindness." 

"Oh,  certainly!"  returned  Mr.  Phillips, 
politely,  exchanging  his  late  peculiar  smile 
for  one  of  less  equivocal  meaning;  "  cer- 
tainly, if  you  will  so  characterize  the  thing. 
But,"  he  added,  "  suppose  we  change  the 
subject.  The  fellows  all  fairly  at  it  again  .^" 
he  asked  of  Alston. 


338      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

"Yes,"  said  Alston,  "  they  are;  and  they 
are  apparently  very  glad  of  it." 

A  servant  entered  at  this  moment. 

"  Ned,"  said  Mrs.  Alston,  "  there  is  a 
gentleman  downstairs  —  a  Mr.  Darragh  — 
who  wishes  to  see  you.  Is  it  the  one  whom 
you  have  so  often  told  me  of  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Alston.  "I  asked  him 
to  come  and  see  me  some  time,  as  I  wished 
to  talk  with  him.  Would  you  mind  his 
joining  us  here,  Mr.  Phillips?  I  think  you 
would  be  interested  in  him,  for  he  is  a  very 
manly  and  intelligent  fellow." 

"Delighted,  I'm  sure!"  said  the  pres- 
ident. 

"I  wish,"  said  Mrs.  Alston,  "that  I,  too, 
might  meet  him,  of  whom  I've  heard  so 
much  good.  But  I  must  be  at  the  Brown- 
ing class  this  evening,  and  I  hear  the  car- 
riage now.  Do  you  like  Browning,  Mr. 
Phillips.^" 


Conclusion,  339 

"Browning!"  answered  that  gentleman, 
with  a  gasp.  "Ah,  well,  not  exactly. 
Something  of  a  poet,  but  a  little  ob- 
scure." 

"Ah,  you  would  understand  him  better 
if  you  studied  him,  I'm  sure." 

"  I  fear  not.  Life  is  but  short,  my  dear 
madam." 

Mrs.  Alston  laughed.  "Well,  good- 
bye," she  said,  giving  him  her  hand;  "I 
shall  have  all  your  conversation  at  second 
hand,  by  and  by,  whether  interesting  or 
otherwise.  Ned  can't  help  rehearsing  it  to 
me,  poor  fellow!  "  And,  shaking  her  finger 
at  her  husband,  who  ventured  no  reply  but 
a  grimace,  she  disappeared. 

"  You    have    heard    of  the    president   of 

the  B ,   Mr.  Darragh  ?  "  said  Alston,  as 

Darragh  entered  the  room,  a  moment  after. 
"  He  knows  of  you,  rest  assured." 

Darragh  bowed  to  Mr.  Phillips,  and   ex- 


340      The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

pressed  his  regret  that  he  had  called  at 
perhaps  an  inopportune  time. 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world,"  said  Alston, 
heartily;  "we  are  both  very  glad  to  see 
you.  Won't  you  have  a  cigar?"  he  added, 
handing  him  the  box. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Darragh,  '^  but  I 
rarely  smoke." 

Mr.  Phillips  attentively  regarded  this 
man,  w^ho  had   at  first  exercised   so   much 

power    in    F ,    and    latterly    so    utterly 

failed  in  his  influence.  He  saw  at  once 
that  this  failure  could  have  arisen  from  no- 
lack  in  the  man  himself.  For  his  high- 
mindedness  and  honesty  were  to  be  read 
in  his  face;  and  he  realized  more  plainly 
than  before  the  magnitude  of  the  evil  that 
would  not  permit  men  to  follow  such  a 
leader  when  he  sought  to  extricate  them 
from  a  false  position. 

Darragh's  expression  was  very  sober,  and 


Co7ichision,  341 


his    face    looked    worn  and  sad,   as    of  one 
who  had  been  ill. 

"  I  hope,"  said  Alston,  "  that  you  have 
been  none  the  worse  for  that  unlucky  crack, 
Mr.  Darragh?" 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Darragh;  "I  soon 
got  over  that.  I  wish  I  could  put  some 
other  things  aside  as  easily." 

"  I  wanted,"  Alston  went  on,  "  to  have  a 
little  talk  with  you  about  matters,  now  the 

thing  is  over,  in  F .     I  have  thought  a 

good  deal  about  this  labor  question,  and 
very  seriously,  too.  Naturally,  I  feel  that 
you  regard  it  from  a  different  standpoint, 
and  I  wanted  the  benefit  of  your  views.  I 
don't  believe  Mr.  Phillips  will  mind  joining 
in  a  little  discussion  of  this  matter  with  us." 

He  paused. 

"  Shall  be  glad  to  hear  you  both,"  said 
Mr.  Phillips,  lighting  a  fresh  cigar.     "  Fire 


away ! " 


342       The  Strike  iii  the  B MilL 

Darragh  looked  at  him  as  if  expecting 
something  farther,  but  saw  no  signs  of  it 
in  his  composed  and  rather  saturnine  ex- 
pression; and,  as  Alston  looked  inquiringly 
at  himself,  he  said,  presently:  — 

"  I  do  not  think  I  can  give  you  much 
light.  I  am  in  a  very  confused  and  hope- 
less state  of  mind  about  these  matters, 
just  now." 

"Well,"  said  Alston,  "that  is  just  the 
time  when  the  mind  gets  down  to  its  true 
bearings,  after  all.  We  have  both,  as  it 
were,  slipped  our  old  moorings  and  are 
afloat,  looking  for  an  anchorage.  Some  of 
our  former  prejudices  and  fixed  ideas  are 
sloughed  off,  and  we  can  look  at  things 
more  impartially,  each  with  perhaps  a  little 
different  bent." 

"Yes,"  said  Darragh,  with  a  sigh;  "that 
is  true  —  there  is  something  in  that." 

"  All    right,"     said    Alston.       "  Now,    to 


Conclusion,      ^  343 


begin  with,  allow  me  to  suggest  that,  in  my 
judgment,  while  the  laboring-man  may,  in 
some  cases,  be  in  rather  a  bad  fix,  yet 
all  the  rumpus  he  is  making  is  wrong,  par- 
adoxical as  this  may  seem." 

"  I  confess,"  said  Darragh,  "  that  I  don't 
quite  follow  you." 

"Well,  hold  on  till  I  get  a  little  farther. 
Now  he  is  going  in  for  more  wages  ever}' 
time.  When  he  has  been  kept  too  low,  he 
usually  gets  an  advance:  that's  all  right. 
But  he  will  presently,  perhaps,  try  for  a  little 
more  still — your  order  proposes  to  keep 
him  at  it,  I  presume.  Well,  here  we  are,  all 
sorts  of  people,  rich  and  poor,  with  our 
money  invested  in  manufacturing  stocks. 
We  must  have  some  income  from  them. 
We  are  willing  to  divide  with  the  operative, 
but  we  can't  give  him  all.  We  must  live 
as  well  as  he.  Perhaps  3^ou  are  not  aware 
of  our  difficulty  in  squeezing  out  small  div- 


344       '^^^^  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

idends?  At  all  events,  matters  are  in  that 
state  that  when  our  friend  tries  it  ao^ain  he 
cannot  have  it.     Then  what?" 

Alston  stopped.  He  had  been  speaking 
rapidly,  and  now  relighted  his  cigar  and 
looked  at  Darragh. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Darragh.  "But  I 
did  not  quite  realize  that  manufacturing, 
with  all  the  protection  it  had  enjoyed,  was 
at  such  a  low  ebb." 

"  It  is  at  a  very  low  ebb,"  returned 
Alston.  "  We  have  only  a  home  mar- 
ket. Our  wages  are  already  so  high 
that,  with  the  cost  of  other  things,  we 
cannot  compete  abroad  with  England.  As 
I  understand  it,"  he  continued,  turning  to 
Mr.  Phillips,  "  we  can  export  no  cloth 
profitably?" 

"  Not  a  yard,"  responded  Mr.  Phillips, 
briefly. 

"  Is  not  the  home  market,"  asked  Darragh, 


Conclusion,  345 


after  a  pause,  In  which  he  again  waited  for 
further  remark  from  the  president,  but  was 
again  disappointed,  "  is  not  the  home  mar- 
ket enough  for  you  with  no  competi- 
tion ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Alston,  "  it  is,  not.  For  the 
truth,  as  I  begin  to  see  it,  is,  that  manufac- 
turing is  being  overdone  here,  and  very 
much  so  too.  It  was  ver}^  profitable  once, 
and  so  increased  out  of  all  reason.  The  war 
gave  it  a  false  and  pernicious  impetus.  And 
it  seems  difficult  for  it  to  get  down  to  its  right 
proportions.  But  it  must  get  there.  Mean- 
while we  are  struggling  along,  tr3'ing  to 
pay  a  little  interest  on  our  costly  plants,  and 
here  is  the  operative  bouncing  around  with- 
out the  slightest  idea  of  the  economic  con- 
dition of  thinofs,  and  clamorino:  for  more 
pay." 

"Well,  Mr.  Alston,"  said  Darragh, 
"  sometimes,  you   have  admitted  that  they 


34^      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

ouo^ht  to  have  it  and  have  voted  to  o^ive  it 
them." 

"  Yes,"  said  Alston.  '^  But  that  is  not 
what  I  speak  of.  If  such  cases  were  all, 
and  if  a  fair  increase  were  all  they  asked, 
I  should  have  little  to  say  on  that  head. 
But  you  have  an  organization  kept  alive  by 
a  few  interested  agitators,  whose  cry  is  that 
you  are  to  go  on  and  on,  getting  more  pay 
and  working  less  hours,  ad  infinitum.  Such 
concessions  as  are  obtained  are  only  treated 
as  instalments  of  the  grand  plan  of  increase 
and  change,  by  these  men,  many  of 
whom  are  in  receipt  of  good  salaries,  and 
find  agitation,  and  the  keeping  alive  of  the 
organization  with  all  its  fallacious  hopes, 
personally  profitable."  Observing  that  Dar- 
ragh  colored  a  little,  Alston  added  quickly: 
"  I  do  not  class  you  among  these  men,  Mr. 
Darragh.  I  am  informed  that  you  have  lost 
far  more  than   you    have   gained    by   your 


Conclusion,  347 


advocacy  of  this  cause;  and  I  certainly 
believe  you  to  have  been  entirely  honest 
when  you  did  so." 

The  slight  look  of  displeasure  on  Dar- 
ragh's  face  gave  place  to  one  of  deep 
dejection  as  he  replied:  "You  only  do  me 
justice  there,  Mr.  Alston.  But  I  do  not  so 
much  care  for  this.  I  would  gladly  be 
misunderstood  myself,  if  I  could  believe,  as 
formerly,  that  my  friends  were  on  the  right 
track  with  this  organization.  But  I  am  now 
thoroughly  convinced  that  it  is  all  a  mis- 
take, and  a  very  mischievous  one  too.  I 
have  given  up  my  membership  in  the 
order." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  returned  Alston, 
warmly.  "  Allow  me  to  shake  hands  with 
you,"  he  added,  laughing,  and  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,  "  as  being  a  man  and  a 
brother  once  more.  While  you  were  shut 
in   by   the   walls   of   that   concern,   I    was 


348       The  Sti'ike  iii  the  B Mill, 

always  puzzled  to  know  whether  3'ou  were 
above  or  below  me.  Certainly  we  were 
not  equals.  Now  we  are  so  in  every  sense, 
and  I  rejoice  in  it,  for  I  have  liked  you  well, 
my  friend." 

Alston  spoke  these  words  with  a  kind 
emphasis,  that  went  to  Darragh's  heart. 

"  Mr.  Alston,"  he  said,  slowly  and  with 
feeling,  "the  last  few  weeks  have  demon- 
strated to  me  that  I  have  been  immensely 
misled  in  my  former  estimate  of  some  men. 
I  looked  upon  all  men  of  wealth  and 
social  position  as  utterly  indifferent  to  the 
fate  of  those  who  did  not  possess  these 
advantages;  as  ready  to  grind  the  faces  of 
the  poor,  and  careless  of  their  wants  and 
discomforts.  I  now  know  that  true  and 
large-hearted  men  are  to  be  found  every- 
where: that  we  are  all  united  in  the  great 
brotherhood  of  the  race,  and  that  it  is 
wrong  as  well  as  useless  to   array  a  part  of 


Conclusion.  349 


the  people  against  the  other,  merely  because 
of  accidental  differences  of  material  posses- 
sions with  their  incidental  advantages." 

"  By  Jove,  you  are  right,"  said  Alston. 
"  We  are  all  run  in  the  same  mould;  and  in 
this  country,  certainly,  it  is  rather  ridiculous 
for  people  to  call  themselves  better  than 
others,  or  hold  themselves  aloof  on  account 
of  a  little  money.  What  do  you  say,  Mr. 
Phillips?"  he  asked  of  that  gentleman, 
w^ho,  apparently  oblivious  of  the  conversa- 
tion, w^as  curled  in  his  easy-chair,  and,  with 
eyes  closed,  smoked  meditatively. 

"  Great  rot,"  —  murmured  Mr.  Phillips 
calmly,  without  opening  his  eyes,  or  taking 
his  cigar  from  his  mouth.  "  My  father," 
he  added,  with  apparent  relish,  "  peddled 
peanuts  on  a  corner.  I  got  to  importing 
them  m3'self." 

He  relapsed  into  silence  as  the  others 
laughed. 


35 o       The  Strike  in  the  B MilL 

"  What  Pm  getting  at,  Mr.  Darragh,  is 
this,"  continued  Alston,  presently;  "these 
men  can  get  no  such  wages  as  they  want; 
in  the  future  they  are  going  to  get  less. 
It's  inevitable,  in  spite  of  the  silly  talk  of 
the  paid  prophets  of  the  ^Associates  of 
Toil.'  More  than  that,  they  are  going  to 
lose  employment  altogether,  in  many  cases. 
Now,  the  truth  is,  there  are  too  many  wage- 
earners  in  this  country,  and  they  must  begin 
to  drop  it.  They  must  leave  the  employ- 
ment before  it  leaves  them." 

"  What,"  asked  Darragh,  "are  they  to  do, 
and  where  are  they  to  go?  " 

"Well,"  replied  Alston,  "they  are  to 
pick  up  the  rake  and  take  hold  of  the 
plough-handle;  that's  what  they  are  to  do; 
the  broad  lands  of  this  country  furnish  the 
place  for  them  to  go  to.  Let  them,  in  a 
word,  turn  farmers.  We  have  too  much 
constructive  and  too  little  productive  work 


Conclusion,  351 


in  this  country.  We  want  less  cloth  and 
more  corn;  fewer  railroads,  and  more  farm 
produce  to  carry  over  them.  —  There  would 
be  better  dividends  all  around,  I  think,  if 
this  were  so.  We  have  been  wrong  end 
foremost  a  good  deal  of  the  time,  in  our 
hurry  to  get  ahead." 

"  Some  men  tell  us,"  said  Darragh,  as 
Alston  paused,  "  that  there  is  no  land  left 
for  the  poor  man  here,  that  it  has  been  all 
taken  by  land-grabbing  railroad  companies, 
and  others." 

"They  be  damned!"  interrupted  Alston. 
"'  Excuse  me,  but  whenever  a  man  wants  to 
introduce  some  socialistic  or  agrarian  ideas 
into  a  free  country,  he  must  needs  begin  by 
being  an  alarmist." 

"Then,"  said  Darragh,  "you  believe 
there  is  land  enough  left  for  us  yet?" 

"Why,  just  see  here!  "  exclaimed  Alston; 
"  I  venture   to  say  that  there    is    uncleared 


352       The  Strike  i?i  the  B Mill, 

land  enough  in  New  England  to  accommo- 
date half  of  the  workmen  now  in  our  mills 
and  shops,  not  to  speak  of  hundreds  and 
thousands  of  cleared  farms  that  may  be 
bought  or  rented  for  a  song.  As  to  the 
West,  there  has  been  some  land-grabbing, 
no  doubt,  but  it  does  not  lie  in  the  mouth 
of  any  men,  for  a  long  time  yet,  to  say 
they  can  find  no  land  to  till  in  this  country, 
if  they  want  it." 

''  But  these  men  do  not  know  how  to 
farm,"  said  Darragh;  "who  shall  teach 
them?" 

"Well,"  said  Alston,  "the  science  of 
agriculture  seemed  to  come  very  easily  to 
the  early  races  of  men,  and  I  do  not  know 
that  we  are  more  particularly  stupid  than 
they.  It  needs  hard  work  to  get  a  living 
out  of  a  farm,  just  as  it  does  out  of  a  loom 
or  spinning-jenn}'.  But  the  independence 
of  the  one  life  is  fir  ahead  of  the  other.     A 


Conclusion, 


353 


farming  community  is  the  happiest  in  the 
world.  I  think  old  Tom  Jefferson's  early 
views  on  that  subject  were  sounder  than 
those  of  his  dotage.  Now,  Mr.  Darragh 
cannot  a  good  many  of  these  people  be 
induced  to  change  their  occupation? 
That's    my  idea." 

"  I'm  inclined  to  think,"  said  Darrao-h, 
"  that  if  you  could  find  land  for  them,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  persuade  them  to  go." 

"  Not  surprised  at  that,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Phillips,  in  his  moderate  tones;  "never 
cauo^ht  on  to  the  romance  of  farming-, 
myself" 

"Well,"  continued  Darragh,  with  a 
smile,  "  odd  as  it  may  seem,  many  of 
these  people  working  in  a  hot  mill  or 
shop  all  day,  and  living  in  almost  unen- 
durable tenements,  wouldn't  see  it,  either. 
The  real  difficulty  would  lie  in  persuading 
them  to  the  change,  particularly  on  account 


354       ^'^^^  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

of  their  habit  of  gregariousness,  as  it  were. 
They  are  accustomed  to  be  in  crowds,  and 
they  could  not  bear  to  be  alone,  even  with 
a  snug  little  farm  and  comparative  inde- 
pendence. And,  then,  if  any  were  inclined, 
they  wouldn't  know  where  to  turn  for  land, 
or  how  to  get  it." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Alston,  pondering, 
with  many  puffs  of  his  cigar,  "  of  course, 
the  matter  is  only  half  thought  out  yet;  but 
it  has  occurred  to  me  that  if  some  rich  men 
would  take  hold  of  it  and  secure  land,  not 
necessarily  all  in  the  West,  but  here,  there, 
and  everywhere, —  new  lands,  and  old,  cheap 
farms,  —  and  arrange  to  let  these  people 
have  them  on  such  terms  of  sale  or  rental 
as  they  preferred,  the  first  step  would  be 
taken.  It  does  not  look  to  me  as  abso- 
lutely impracticable.  Does  it  to  you,  Mr. 
Phillips?" 

''  Rather      good      as      a      philanthrophic 


Conclusion,  355 


scheme,"  responded  Mr.  Phillips;  "but 
should  hardly  recommend  it  as  a  safe 
investment  of  capital." 

"  No,"  said  Alston,  "  not  in  the  way  of 
heavy  pecuniary  return.  But  you  could 
get  most  of  the  money  back.  What  was 
lost  would,  in  quite  a  different  sense,  still 
be  a  good  investment.  I  am  willing  to 
subscribe  largely.  And,"  he  added,  with 
a  laugh,  "  I  believe  I  could  make  you  come 
down  pretty  heavily  too." 

"  Don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Phillips,  leaning 
forward,  and  brushing  some  cigar  ashes  from 
the  lapel  of  his  dress-coat:  "have  made  an 
ass  of  myself  before  now;  may  again." 

Darragh  began  to  be  much  interested. 
He  had  been  so  much  in  the  habit  of  re- 
garding the  laboring  man  as  a  fixture,  and 
only  to  be  aided  in  the  place  where  he 
found  himself,  that  he  was  startled  by  the 
idea   of  changing   his    status    altogether, — 


35^       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

putting  him  where  the  question  of  hours 
and  income  would  be  largely  determined 
by  himself.  In  a  dim  way,  he  had  hereto- 
fore realized  the  fact  that  there  were  as"ri- 
culturalists;  but  they  had  been  classed  in 
his  mind  with  the  capitalists  of  the  world. 
He  now  began  to  see  that  there  might  be 
room  for  many  wage-earners  in  this  better 
state  of  life,  if  they  had  the  energy  and 
pluck  to  undertake  it. 

"It  would,"  he  said  to  Alston,  "be  a 
noble  enterprise  to  deplete  the  ranks  of 
the  wage-earners,  and  make  them  inde- 
pendent, self-supporting  producers.  But  it 
would  be  a  stupendous  one." 

"  Not  so  much  trouble  about  it,  either," 
returned  Alston;  "  the  thing  has  often  been 
done  before.  All  the  colonization  of  new 
countries  has  been  simply  this,  after  all, 
under  somewhat  different  conditions.  And 
it  is  only  the  other  day  that  I  saw  that  some 


Conclusion,  357 


people  in  Canada  were  about  purchasing 
a  tract  of  35,000  acres,  to  settle  some  of 
their  people,  who  had  become  dissatisfied 
with  their  lot  as  mill  operatives  in  the 
United  States.  A  great  deal  could  be 
selected  by  agents,  for  preemption,  with  us." 

"  How  are  we  to  start  the  people  ?  "  asked 
Darragh,  "  after  you  begin  to  have  land  for 
them?" 

"Well,"  said  Alston,  "such  men  as  you 
would  have  to  preach  it  up  to  them.  They 
would  take  no  stock  in  what  I  said,  thanks 
to  the  class  distinctions  and  animosities 
created  by  your  labor  organizations." 

"  I  think,"  interrupted  Darragh,  "  that  you 
are  not  quite  just  to  the  'Associates  of  Toil ' 
there.  It  has  never  been  their  intention  to 
do  that.  The  equality  of  all  men  is  one  of 
their  leading  tenets  of  faith." 

"I  don't  care  what  they  teach,"  responded 
Alston;  "the  practical  effect  of  the  organi- 


35 8      The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

zation  is  diametrically  opposed  to  such  doc- 
trine. They  can  hold  their  men  together  in 
no  other  way.  But  I  like  your  candor  in 
defending  them  under  the  circumstances." 

Darragh  put  this  aside  by  a  little  motion 
of  the  hand,  as  he  rose. 

"  Perhaps/'  he  said,  "  it  would  be  fairer 
to  say  that  they  find  men  unequal,  and  pro- 
fess to  be  able  to  restore  the  equality." 

"Yes,"  said  Alston.  "But  there  they 
make  a  great  blunder,  it  appears  to  me.  In 
telling  men  that  they  form  an  inferior  class, 
in  a  country  like  this,  you  degrade  them. 
You  impart  a  sense  of  injury  where  none 
has  been  inflicted.  Until  lately,  a  journey- 
man carpenter  has  felt  himself  to  be  the 
peer  of  the  millionnaire;  and  so  he  was,  in 
every  essential.  Worth  has  been  the  stand- 
ard of  manhood,  and  money  only  an  inci- 
dental. Your  organizations  are  changing 
all  this.     They  falsely  assume  an  inequality 


Co  n  clusio  n.  359 


as  existing,  that  they  may  have  an  addi- 
tional text  from  which  to  preach  discontent, 
and  kick  up  a  row  generally,  all  along  the 
line.  They  create  an  evil  sentiment,  that 
they  have  no  power  to  allay.  —  But  you  are 
not  going,"  he  added,  as  Darragh  remained 
standing. 

"Yes,"  he  answered;  "I  must  catch  my 
train." 

"Are  you  going  clean  away?"  asked 
Alston.  "  I  want  to  see  you  again.  If  I 
had  the  aid  of  a  few  men  like  you,  it  does 
seem  as  if  the  work  I  speak  of  might  be 
really  started.  I  am  willing  to  put  time  and 
money  into  it,  and  get  others  to  do  so  too  — 
Mr.  Phillips,  here,  for  example,  as  before 
observed." 

Mr.  Phillips  deigned  no  further  notice  of 
this  than  a  slight  grunt  across  the  end  of 
his  cigar. 

"  I  shall  return  to  this  vicinity  in  a  few 


^6o       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill, 

days,"  said  Darragh.  "Meanwhile,  I  v/ill 
talk  over  what  you  suggest,  with  others  of 
our  people,  who  are  wiser  than  I.  If  j^ou 
can  do  anything  towards  it,  perhaps  we  can 
take  hold  with  you.  I  confess  I  like  the 
idea,  if  it  be  feasible.  If  the  wage-earners 
can  be  thinned  out,  it  ought  to  be  better  for 
those  who  go  and  those  that  remain." 

"Well,  good-luck  to  you!  "said  Alston, 
as  Darragh  took  his  leave  of  them,  Mr. 
Phillips  rising  and  shaking  him  silently  but 
very  heartily  by  the  hand. 

He  had  been  much  impressed  by  Dar- 
ragh's  manners  and  good-sense,  and,  after 
he  had  gone,  remarked  to  Alston  that  he 
seemed  a  very  excellent  type  of  the  work- 
ing-man. 

"  Yes,"  said  Alston.  "  I  have  rarely  met 
a  man  I  liked  more." 

"You're  rather  cutting  us  out  of  our  labor 
by  your    little    scheme,"    further    remarked 


Conclusion,  361 


the  president,  walking  to  and  fro,  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  Alston.  "  But  there 
is  no  question  that  wage-earners  are  now 
too  numerous  for  their  own  good.  And, 
reasoning  inductively  to  that  cause,  we  must 
be  willing  to  seek  further  for  a  remedy 
That  is  what  the  economists  teach  us." 

"  They,"  said  the  president,  yawning, 
"  only  give  us  a  set  of  definitions,  after  all." 

"  Well,  definitions  are  a  great  help,"  said 
Alston.  "  They  give  us  logical  methods, 
and  help  us  to  the  truth  in  that  way." 

Mr.  Phillips  looked  at  his  watch.  Sud- 
denly he  asked,  "  What's  become  of  all  the 
farmers'  sons?  why  don't  they  do  the 
farming?  " 

"Oh!"  answered  Alston,  "they  have  been 
leaving  the  farms  for  fifty  years  past. 
Flocking,  some  to  the  West,  but  more  to 
our    own    centres    of    population.      A    few 


362       The  Strike  in  the  B Mill. 

have  bettered  themselves,  but  the  greater 
number  have  become  w^age-earners  —  they 
and  their  children.  And  the  farms  are  run- 
ning out  and  being  abandoned." 

Mr.  Phillips  pitched  the  end  of  his  cigar 
into  the  open  grate,  and  stood  looking  dow^n 
at  his  boots  for  a  moment  wdth  a  thoughtful 
air. 

"You  think,"  he  finally  said,  "that  it's 
time  for  the  tide  to  turn?  —  Well,  on  the 
w^hole,  I'm  not  half  sure  that  you're  wrong." 


It 
•       i 


